


Chestnuts Roasting Over The Open Firewhiskey: A Hogwarts Christmas Tale

by PTwritesmore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward Romance, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Morning, Christmas at Hogwarts, D/Hr Advent 2020, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Good Theodore Nott, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Love Potion/Spell, Minor Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27481705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTwritesmore/pseuds/PTwritesmore
Summary: Theo Nott is worried about his best friend and takes a desperate measure to save him from taking the mark. Will Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger survive Christmas at Hogwarts while dealing with the consequences of his friend's decision?It's a HBP, canon divergent, dramione Christmas story!Characters are not mine, etc.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 52
Kudos: 258





	1. What's Brewing In The Snake Pit?

“I wish we were around to see your little prank play out,” Blaise Zabini murmured with a wicked smirk. “Draco might kill you for this, Nott,” the wizard mused to the lanky brunette boy hunched over a small cauldron on the floor of their dorm room.

“He very well might, but it will be worth it,” Theo Nott tried to make his voice match the other boy’s glee. Blaise had no idea what Theo really meant of course. This potion was no joking matter, nor a prank at all. When Blaise had come across him brewing this potion hidden under his bed this morning, he had to come up with an excuse quickly. Theo knew he was a shit liar. Draco had teased him about his lack of skill since they were little; he was too expressive when caught off guard. When Blaise pulled up the green sheet and caught him brewing what was clearly amortentia, Theo panicked. Clamoring for a reason, he claimed he was brewing the love potion as a favor to Pansy. When Blaise pushed for answers, Theo said it was for their best mate Draco Malfoy to make him fall in love with Pansy again while he was alone in the castle for Christmas break. And it was close enough to the truth that it worked, with Blaise laughing at how desperate Pansy still was for Draco. Theo noted he’d likely have to forge some embarrassing letters from Draco to Pansy so he could show Blaise and make it up to Pansy with a shopping trip, but he suspected Draco would prefer that to the reality he had planned. Theo was on a rather serious mission in brewing this specific love potion. 

The night before he left for school, Theo had heard his father’s laughter as he passed his study. A cruel man to his core, laughter was a rare sound, but when it escaped him it was consistent in its vileness. It was an angry laugh, the laugh of an unhinged man who found joy in bitterness, darkness, and violence. The moment he heard it, Theo froze in place a few feet from his father’s office, the feeling of bile in his throat. The door was just slightly ajar and the noises of his meeting spilled out into the hallway. 

“Very good, Avery. Bring the mudblood here tomorrow and we shall have some fun with that one,” his father chuckled lowly before schooling his tone back to the somber, threatening one Theo was excruciatingly familiar with. “As I was saying, our assignment comes directly from the Dark Lord himself. If the Malfoy boy is on schedule with his assignment, we will break out Lucius, Bella, and the others just prior to Christmas,” his father instructed. “We’ll have the meeting at an unplottable location with the Dark Lord following the break out, and host a dark celebration in his great honor on Christmas Eve. Just like the old days,” his father sounded almost wistful, Theo noted with grave concern. Murmurs of agreement in the room motivated Theo to silently back away and run to his room. 

When Draco mentioned in November that his parents asked him to stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday to work on his assignment, Theo knew why, recalling that night. Both boys also never talked of it again, an unspoken understanding between the sons of two high ranking Death Eaters. When they returned to the dorms the first time of school, Draco had shared what he was tasked with, as the Dark Lord had graced Malfoy Manor the week before they returned to school. Theo offered to help with the repair of the vanishing cabinet, but Draco refused to involve him, saying it would be dangerous for both of them. Theo knew the stone-faced blond would have to take the mark during the spring holidays and complete his final task in the second semester; killing one of the greatest wizards the world had ever seen. It was a death sentence for Draco.

“Out of curiosity, what do you smell?” Theo asked Blaise, gesturing to the cauldron that sat between them. He stared at Blaise, wondering if this halfblood prat knew how lucky he was that his salg of a mother wasn’t a Death Eater. He envied Blaise for many things: his athletic ability as a Keeper, his ease flirting with women, his stupidly high cheekbones, and his comfort in his own skin, among other things. But the absence of this looming pressure and fear of torture Draco and Theo both felt daily topped the list. 

“Trying to see what team I bat for Nott?” Blaise said with a cheeky grin. Theo rolled his eyes in return. “Hate to disappoint you, but it is excessively feminine. Vanilla, rose, and coconut,” he breathed it in. “Intoxicating.”

“Believe me, I expected feminine, you man slag. If I have to hear another heartbroken witch cry about you in the common room, I’ll push you in the lake. To me it smells like freshly brewed peppermint tea, grass, and...hmmm...lavender,” Theo decided after a moment of analysis. 

“Well, believe she’s taken, mate. Really want the Weasel’s sloppy seconds?” a dark eyebrow arched playfully. 

“Not that lavender you prat,” Theo hissed, getting impatient. “Never that Lavender,” he insisted, shaking his head. Normally the joker of their friend group, Theo was not in the mood to banter. Blaise’s excitement for the holiday had him in a jolly mood, one that Theo did not have time to entertain. Theo turned to grab a vial out of his bag. 

“What's that? Isn’t the amortentia done? It looks perfect,” Blaise questioned, looking between the mother of pearl sheen shimmering in the cauldron and Theo’s hand. 

“A little trick I learned from my father’s associate,” Theo sneered bitterly at the thought of the older man his father regularly employed on business. He brewed a variety of unseemly potions in his back alley shop in Knockturn Alley, including unlicensed lust potions designed for dosing unwitting young witches. Theo cringed at the memory of seeing these potions in use before taking a deep breath to ground himself. He couldn’t wait to get away from his father. He added the crushed fairy wing and the single Cognac-colored hair he had nicked earlier in the week from a brilliant and unsuspecting muggleborn classmate he knew would be staying during the break. The same classmate Draco Malfoy had been teasing, mocking, and bullying mercilessly for years. But Draco was Theo’s oldest friend - the closest thing to a brother either of them had ever had. Theo knew what Draco was doing and why, even if Draco didn’t realize it. 

He was only brewing this Godric-damned thing because he owed Draco a life debt. Although Draco would never collect, Theo felt bound to repay him for stepping in that night the summer before third year. Draco had single handedly distracted, knocked out, and obliviated the senior Nott, after finding the drunk wizard squeezing the life out of Theo while choking him to death. Draco never asked what led to the events of that night and Theo never volunteered the information; they both knew that was hardly the reason Mr. Nott had turned violent. They’d never spoken of the event again, but Theo had paid closer attention to Draco since, studying and analyzing him to determine how he could best requite his friend. The idea that the muggleborn could play a role in helping Draco occurred to him the night of the Yule Ball, when his best friend couldn’t take his eyes off the girl in periwinkle blue. In the two years since, Theo had been fitting together the pieces, finding the potential solution one night in late October after watching Draco watch the girl in the library. Theo had reasoned that perhaps opening a door that Draco thought was locked - or didn’t even exist - might be a start to repay him the way he deserved. He hoped it would anyway. Maybe she could save him in a way Theo could not. Perhaps if she saved Draco, Draco could save Theo too. And maybe Draco wouldn’t kill him for the potion in the end.


	2. Goodbyes In The Great Hall

“Checkmate!” Ron Weasley boomed, beating Harry Potter at wizard chess for the second time that morning. Across from him Harry dropped his head into his hands and groaned while the scattered Gryffindors at the table laughed. 

“I just can’t beat you,” Harry conceded with a good natured smile. It was clear that he never minded losing to Ron at wizard chess, not really. Next to the broad redhead, Lavender Brown giggled and nuzzled into his neck. “You’re always a winner to me Won-Won,” she whispered much too loudly into his ear. Hermione Granger rolled her eyes with a sneer at this exchange, a few seats down at the long table. Across from her, Ginny Weasely stifled laughter at Hermione's visceral reaction. After weeks of watching the couple unabashedly grope each other in the common room, Hermione was confident that all of Gryffindor was sick of these shows of shameless affection. 

This morning most of the student body was leaving for Christmas break. The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement as students filtered in and out, grabbing breakfast and bidding friends goodbye before catching the Hogwarts Express home. The Gryffindor table was nearly empty now, signaling it was time for the stragglers to start leaving. Harry grabbed his trunk and walked towards Hermione. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to the Burrow with us?” Harry asked quietly, his green eyes studying his friend from behind his glasses. Hermione sighed. It was the third time that morning he had asked her. Logically, Hermione knew Harry was worried about her being the only student staying behind in their house and feeling lonely. It was his nature to be fiercely protective. It was also in his nature to be blissfully oblivious to things right in front of him. 

Following Sirius’ murder in June, Harry’s subsequent emotional fallout from his loss, and the public nature of Voldemort’s return, Hermione privately made the decision that she must protect her parents at any cost. Knowing this could be her last time with her parents, she had organized their summer holiday to maximize family time. Harry and Ron would have laughed at her color-coded schedule if they had known. From learning how to make her grandmother’s famous Easter lamb dish to pushing her parents into writing down stories from their youth to planning trips to their favorite museums and restaurants, she worked with a silent determination to squeeze all their love and memories into something tangible to hold her over until the war was through. It was three exhausting months that she knew were worth every effort. But Hermione knew that all things, good as they may be, must end. The day before she was set to return to Hogwarts, she took them to Diagon Alley under the guise of buying school supplies, erased herself from their memories in a place her magic wouldn’t set off alarms, and sent them to Australia. She had yet to tell anyone what she’d done, concerned that she’d be forced to bring them home regardless of the impending war. When this was over, if they won, she’d retrieve her parents and fix their memories...somehow. That she was sure of. Hopefully next Christmas she’d be leaving with her classmates, bound home for a full holiday with her parents after Voldemort was defeated. She started picturing her father in his favorite holiday jumper, featuring a jolly St. Nick, and her mother popping open Christmas crackers with her infectious laugh. Hermione smiled wistfully at the image, wondering how they’d be celebrating in Australia this year. 

“Hermione?” Harry prodded gently, concern etched into his face. “Do you want to come? There is still time to grab your things.” It was almost funny to her that Harry didn’t want her to feel alone for Christmas, but he had no idea how alone she already was. Almost.

“No, I most certainly do not, thank you very much” she sniffed, looking pointedly at Ron, currently engaged in an outrageous display of affection for such a public place. Hermoine scowled despite her best efforts. The past few weeks of fighting with her best friend had already been hard enough. To continue to watch Lavender and Ron try to eat either’s faces off had put a nail in the coffin for the crush Hermione had harbored for the last few years. Her fading feelings didn’t make their row any less painful, however, and she did not want to put up with him for weeks. Besides, Hermione was also worried how she would act on Christmas when she missed her family, unwilling to tell her friends what she’d done in fear they’d try to bring them back. “With my parents on their research sabbatical in America, I’ve been looking forward to some peace and quiet. This is the perfect time to research ways to help you defeat Voldemort,” she whispered her rehearsed lines to him with forced cheer. 

“I’ll miss you,” Harry said sadly as he pulled her in for a hug. “Do take a break, Hermione. It is Christmas,” he whispered into her ear. She nodded and squeezed him tighter. As they broke apart, Ginny ran up and gave her a hug too. “I’ll keep the boys in line in your place Hermione,” she said with a wink. 

“Oh, very funny. I’m not their minder you know. You did remember to take the gifts for everyone?” 

“Of course! I packed them this morning,” her friend scoffed. “I’m especially curious about the gift for the twins because it was heavier than everyone else’s.”

“No peeking!” Hermione warned sternly, though Ginny’s comment made her morning. She’d worked hard on the enchantment for George and Fred, eager to finally prank them back. Within the excessively heavy box she’d charmed sat just two eagle quills. After being the victim of countless pranks at the twins’ hands as well as the target of many loving taunts, the prefect thought this harmless joke would be a welcome shock. 

“Be sure to open our’s too - especially mine. Promise,” the fiery redhead leveled her gaze into Hermione's whiskey eyes. “Christmas morning, you deserve it.”

“Okay, I promise! I will owl as soon as I open them.” 

Shifting awkwardly behind Ginny, Ron did not move closer to Hermione. The ginger boy caught her eye and nodded goodbye to her. That pang of hurt rose up in her chest again, but Hermioine tried to keep her face neutral as she returned the nod. Space was going to be good for the both of them, she mentally reminded herself as she watched them walk away. 

She turned back to the Gryffindor table to see it was completely empty. Of course the first year she couldn’t be with her parents, she wouldn’t be able to go to the Burrow and no one from her house was spending the holidays at Hogwarts. The petite witch sighed to herself and she sank back into her seat, eyes lifting up to the snow enchanted to gently fall from the ceiling. “ _ Some Christmas this will be _ ,” she thought miserably. She eyed the stack of books in front of her and resigned to pull the one off the top. At least she’d have her homework to keep her occupied today and then she’d be free to do her research for the rest of the break. 

\---------------

“What is the point in drinking alone?” Draco griped across the hall, shoving the engraved silver flask back towards Theo. The Slytherin table was mostly abandoned, save some first years chatting towards the end of it. Even with the cheery Christmas decor, the Great Hall felt colder and more unforgiving than it ever had to Draco. 

“Come on Draco, if you won’t drink it now, promise me you’ll celebrate Christmas with it,” Theo nudged the flask again into Draco’s hands. 

“Eager to get me drunk, Theo?” Draco smirked at his friend, pocketing the flask. He briefly recalled the first drink he'd ever had: a sneaky pull from Theo’s father’s decanter on a dare by his friend. It had tasted like fire on the way down, his 11 year old self being sent into a coughing fit that almost blew their cover. It was Theo’s laughing fit in response that actually got them caught and removed from the study by one of the Nott’s house elves. 

“Eager to get you to relax mate,” Theo grinned. “I’m worried about you,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, his smile fading. “We both know what will be waiting for you next holiday break. Live a little while you still can.”

“Live while I still can,” Draco repeated quietly, staring down at his breakfast solemnly. They both knew he was facing nearly certain death in the new year. He looked up at his brunette friend. “I suppose thanks are in order. I didn’t get you a gift you know. Didn’t realize we were doing this sort of thing now.”

“Oi - that flask is a loaner,” Theo cracked, with an elbow to Draco’s ribs. Draco rolled his eyes amicably before spying Potter across the Great Hall. He was whispering something to Granger as they embraced. 

“ _ Bit of a long embrace really _ ,” he thought. Malfoy had been the one who started the rumor in fourth year that Scarhead and Granger were together. He had used some nasty words then, of course. “ _ Perhaps there is something there, _ ” Draco mulled on the possibility, still watching them. Then the Weaseltte hugged her too, shouting something about presents in the same volume she did on the quidditch pitch, Draco noted with annoyance. “ _ Obnoxious obviously runs in the family. _ ” And finally the Weasel unhinged himself from that loudmouth Brown long enough to give Granger a curt nod. She returned it with a grimace. “ _ Interesting _ .” Draco made a note of the tension for future insults should the Weasel King bother him in the new year. 

  
Then he realized the witch had no luggage. Draco wondered what she was thinking as she watched her three friends walk out of the Great Hall together, without her. She slowly sat back down at the table and returned to her reading. “ _ Of course, _ ” Draco internally jeered. “ _ If the witch could marry a book, she probably would. Swot. _ ” He rolled his eyes before hearing a soft chuckle next to him.

“What?” Draco demanded, looking at Theo’s mirth in surprise. His best friend had been nearly as stressed as he had this year. “ _ Without even being tasked by the Dark Lord. Prat. _ ” 

“Nothing,” Theo said with a smug smile playing at his lips, his blue eyes twinkling “Just be sure to have fun over the break. Hard as it may be without me.” Theo grabbed his trunk and gave Draco a two-fingered salute before walking off. 

“Happy Christmas, tosser” Draco bid his friend goodbye with a small wave. He watched Theo leave before turning his attention back to those who remained in the Great Hall. Draco had never stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays. Usually his family spent the holiday visiting family in France before his mother threw an outrageous New Years Eve Ball. There would be no pomp, circumstance, or merriment this year. His father took his mother along for a major strategy session with his business associates, as he referred to them. 

His eyes landed once again to the caramel nest of curls across the Hall. Granger was still buried in her book. He wondered if she too was missing holiday traditions at home or if muggleborns didn’t celebrate the holiday. He shook his head - why did it matter what muggles did? “ _ Perhaps I should have that drink now, _ ” he mused, tearing his eyes off the witch as he rose to leave. “ _ Hopefully I won’t see her for the duration of the break. _ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to avoid a perspective shift within a single chapter, but Draco's would've been way too short. Forgive me!


	3. Finding Wings

Draco took the long way to breakfast the next day, hiking from the dungeon to the owlery to send his mother another letter. He’d been writing to her daily since the term started, and until two days ago she’d responded in kind. He knew she’d be busy over the next few weeks, but it didn’t calm his anxiety when the owls arrived without anything for Draco Malfoy. He felt his anxiety for his parents building, creating a nervous energy he couldn’t burn off. 

Normally Draco sauntered around campus in an air that befit a Malfoy, mirroring the practiced swagger his father moved with. When his father walked, it was clear nothing could ruffle a Malfoy man, not even something as significant as time. Or it used to be clear, before his father’s arrest. Draco shuddered at the memory of how he saw his father last, just before starting the term, a shadow of his former self after months in Azkaban. He used to think of his father as the ultimate authority on all matters, but since the battle at the Ministry, his certainty began to waver as he saw the once proud man slowly crack. 

With no one around to see him, he raced up the stairs two at a time, trying to see how fast he could make it to the top. A bit childish, he conceded to himself halfway up, but this was likely the last time he’d have the chance to act this way and he wanted to use it. Breathless after reaching the top, he paused in the door frame for the owlery. Someone was in there already, a shadow in the corner. His guard up, Draco rested his hand on his wand and took a step forward. He relaxed as soon as he could see the figure feeding the owls treats, petting and cooing at them. “ _ Probably a lonely first year given the size _ ,” he thought, dropping his hand from his wand. As he looked closer, he realized the petite form was Granger. Draco considered backing away so she would not see him, but just as he decided he needed to make his escape, her head shot up. As soon as he saw her confused expression, he knew it was too late to turn and run. 

“So, Granger, not going home for the holidays?” Draco asked after a beat of startled silence. 

“No...I’m staying here,” she answered slowly, her brown eyes wide in surprise. 

“ _ What am I doing that is so shocking _ ?” Draco wondered to himself as he took in her overwhelmingly muggle outfit. “ _ And what is the pale pink monstrosity she’s wearing instead of a cloak? _ ” It underlined his belief that muggle clothing was inferior to the elegant robes he grew up with. Though he’d never complain about the tightness of muggle jeans, he mused as he snuck a peek, eyes skimming her thighs. 

“Ah, I’m not going home either,” he responded nonchalantly with a small shrug. Draco watched as her surprise turned to suspicion, her dark brows knitted with guarded confusion. This was the longest conversation they’d ever had without an insult passing between them, he noted mentally, regretting that he hadn’t fled when he had the chance. He wasn’t especially in the mood to spar today, especially when the easiest targets were on holiday. 

“What do you want Malfoy?” she asked with a bite in her voice, not so subtly reaching for her wand in her pocket. 

“Just trying to have a  _ civilized _ conversation, a concept you’re unfamiliar with, it appears,” Malfoy snapped, frustrated by her inherent distrust of him. “ _ I’m unarmed for Merlin’s sake! _ ” he screamed at her mentally, his irritation growing. “You’re in my way, Granger,” he held up the parchment meant for his mother in his hand, trying for his coldest look. 

“Well seeing as this is perhaps your first attempt at anything civilized, it is not surprising you’re failing,” she shot back. “I just need to tie my parchment on and I’ll be out of your way,” she explained with a strained composure, reaching out for a snow white owl that Draco recognized as Potter’s. “ _ Of course she is writing to him the day after saying goodbye, _ ” Draco thought, scoffing aloud. 

“Someone is impatient,” Hermione muttered to the owl in response to Draco’s noise. He narrowed his eyes at her, feeling that familiar pull to put the know-it-all in her place. 

“Oh really?” Draco mocked. “What an astute observation, Granger. It is not as though some of us have better things to do than stand about watching you coddle these birds.”

Hermione didn’t respond, silently rolling her eyes at him instead. Internally, Draco smiled, excited he’d still gotten a reaction out of her. He prepared himself for a quip that never came. Instead, she finished tying the parchment to the bird’s leg and whispered goodbye to the bird before walking towards Draco’s position in the door. Draco stepped in front of her, blocking her way out, without thinking about it. He didn’t like it when she didn’t at least try. 

“Oh and Granger, just because your boyfriend Scarhead isn’t here to impress, doesn’t mean you should revert to your animagus form,” Draco sneered. He watched her stoic face falter for just a moment, before becoming indifferent again. “No wonder you feel at home with these birds, they’ve probably been missing their nest,” he added for good measure, gesturing to her wild curls. 

Hermione huffed and pushed past him with some force. Without moving, he listened to her retreating footfalls running down the stone stairs, fading the further she made it down. But her reaction didn’t give him the usual satisfaction. Confused, he walked to his eagle owl and tried to sort out his thoughts. The only difference he could determine between today and their usual encounters was there was the lack of an audience. “ _ In that case, this will be a long three weeks _ ,” he thought as tried off his parchment. 

Hermione was still annoyed hours later, distracted from the Charms essay assigned over the break. She was even more irritated at herself for allowing Draco Malfoy of all people get to her. She hadn’t realized he was one of the students staying behind and was shocked by his sudden appearance this morning. Hermione couldn’t recall a time when they’d been alone together, let alone Malfoy trying to start a normal conversation with her. Not that she was 100% sure his switch in demeanor wasn’t a new tactic to upset her: pretend to be friendly for a moment before reverting to his usual routine. “ _ The only normal part of the encounter was his insults _ ,” she mused while staring into the common room’s roaring fire. She kicked herself for getting upset about his comment about her appearance, comparing her to an animal and insulting her hair. These weren’t new insults, it wasn’t as though she hadn’t heard them all countless times before, especially from him. In fact, they were much kinder than his go-to slur. Hermione turned this over in her head before realizing she must've been more susceptible because of how lonely she was without her family or friends during the holidays. She’d just have to be more alert for the next few weeks and avoid him, she decided, turning her attention back to her homework.

The next morning, Hermione sat on the window ledge in her room and watched as snow blanketed the campus, coming down in sheets. She cracked open a new book that she’d picked up from Hogsmead a few weeks earlier, eager to dive into another world for the morning. After a few minutes, something flashed by in the corner of her eye out the window. Tearing her head from her book, she realized someone was out flying on the quidditch pitch in the snow. 

“Who would be insane enough to fly in this weather?” she asked Crookshanks softly, eyes still on the figure shooting across the gray sky at Harry-like speed. The ginger cat stared back at her as she tried to remember which players were still on campus. “It must be Malfoy,” she relayed her realization to the half kneazle perched on her feet. Crookshanks meowed softly in response before resting his head back on her leg and closing his eyes. She turned back to the window to watch the Slytherin seeker fly. 

“ _ It is rather beautiful, the way he climbs and dives through the air, _ ” she thought, unwilling to share this compliment aloud, even to Crookshanks. His swift maneuvers reminded her of the graceful divers she’d watch on July beach holidays with her father. She watched the black-clad figure for several more minutes, mesmerized by the movements. “ _ Quidditch isn’t all that bad _ ,” she supposed, likening the solo flyer more to ballet than the brutal wizarding sport she endured for her friends. “ _ Without the violence of the bludgers, _ ” she added seriously. 

“Crooky, should I write Ginny to tell her I just thought something positive about quidditch?” she whispered to her sleeping cat with a chuckle. She turned back to her book, happy to forget ever thinking of Draco Malfoy as graceful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to a nice comment from my last chapter, felt more comfortable with the perspective switch and reworked some chapters. We will see this happen for a few chapters, just to give a balance perspective pre-Christmas. :)


	4. Walkmaning Away

A few days later, Draco found himself reflecting on their conversation at the owlery while he dove on his broom. He pictured Granger’s wild hair blowing softly in the wind from the windows, her nose pink from the cold, and her strange muggle jacket. Pink and puffy, it was not something he had imagined the serious girl would choose. But it was the guarded expression, the brown brows knit in irritation, and the pursed lips that his mind kept returning to. It was a face he was all too familiar with, shown to him whenever he insulted her precious Chosen One or Weaselbee. True, he had never been friendly with Granger, and certainly not with her little band of friends. He was sure she still remembered his hexes and his comments about her appearance in previous years, but it was a single word that he felt might have caused her to regard him with such suspicion: mudblood.

When his father was arrested, Draco felt like the rug was pulled out from under him while a blindfold was pulled off his eyes simultaneously. The man he has idolized his entire life attacked children, attacked his classmates who were his age. Since June, Draco’s view of the world had dramatically shifted as the delicate pillars that held his pureblooded perspective shattered. The prejudiced words he had parroted his whole life suddenly took on a new meaning he wasn’t privy to before. Now that the consequences to these viewpoints had come to collect, Draco realized what he had been indoctrinated into since birth. Simply put, he didn’t care about blood status anymore. He didn’t care about the orders from a truly deranged wizard with delusions of grandeur. He didn’t care about his father’s demands or expectations. He didn’t even care about his own life. He only cared about how he could keep his mother safe through the coming senseless war. 

His snitch darted in front of him and took off. He shook his head as if to dislodge Hermione Granger from his head. “Focus Malfoy,” he demanded of himself. As he flew away from the quidditch pitch in pursuit of the snitch, a figure caught his eye walking across the covered bridge to the Forbidden Forest. Well, not walking, really. Stumbling? Dancing? Dancing. If one could call that dancing. He descended, trying to get a better look. It was Granger in muggle clothes again, bouncing her shoulders in time to some unheard melody. He watched he bob her head, her caramel curls rivaling Medusa’s coils in their liveliness. He landed on the side of the bridge she was dancing away from and watched for a moment. Before he could stop himself, a mocking laugh escaped from his mouth. He hand clamped over his mouth to avoid detection, but it was too late. Granger had already turned around and seen him. She ripped the contraption off her head with conviction, her face red enough to match the Weasel’s hair. “How long have you been following me?” Hermione yelled. “What kind of ferret creep watches a girl dancing alone?”

He bristled at the ferret comment, irritated that she remembered that day and felt the need to throw it in his face. “Now, don’t flatter yourself Granger,” he retorted in the most condescending tone he could muster. “I saw a figure struggling to walk and wanted to make sure they were ok. Only when I landed did I realize it was you and your rather pathetic attempt at dancing.”

“Pathetic!” the witch squeaked in indignation. 

“Oh my, so touchy,” Draco felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, so he schooled his mouth into the arrogant smirk he watched his father give time and time again. “Not a confident dancer?”

“Confidence in my dancing skills is not the issue, Malfoy, I assure you.” This feistiness was more of what he expected when they last met in the owlery. 

“Prove it then,” he challenged, gesturing an invitation to start with a smirk. 

“Do you need something, Malfoy?” she sneered at him. “Or did you just come looking for a private show? I believe Parkinson would be more than happy to oblige this sick fantasy when she returns.” Draco grimaced at the mention of Pansy, who was probably still mad at him for their rather spectacular breakup. She had refused to talk to him since he dumped her in September, ignoring his explanation that he was trying to keep her safe. He couldn’t go into more details without putting her into danger, so she felt he had blown her off. Things had been rocky with several of his housemates since. 

“What is that thing anyway?” Draco asked, pointing to her gadget, eager to move the conversation away from him watching her and from Pansy. 

“Oh, a walkman. It's muggle technology,” she started, watching him intently as she spoke. Draco fought not to squirm under her pointed gaze. “So you can listen to tapes. Or, uh, recordings of your favorite songs,” she explained, her voice confused now. Draco realized it might be because he wasn’t leaping at the chance to insult muggles. He pursed his lips and gave a nod of understanding. There was a beat of silence and the two stared at each other. 

“My mum sent it to me for my birthday last year, but she didn’t realize it wouldn’t work at Hogwarts” she continued, clearly interested in avoiding the quiet expanse between the two of them. Draco wondered how well the witch did with awkward silence with people she didn’t hate. “Mr. Weasley, he works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office at the Ministry of Magic, I don’t know if you know, anyway, he and I spelled it together to withstand the magical influence at Hogwarts. It doesn’t work most of the time at Hogwarts,” Hermione babbled sheepishly, looking down at the tape player before peering back at Draco with focused curiosity. “I mean, I tend not to pull it out unless I am alone because muggle technology makes so many people uncomfortable here…” Hermione trailed off, not taking her eyes off of him. They both knew who she was talking about: him, his friends, the other pureblood elitists. “And it only works when there aren’t many people on campus due to the magical interference. So I’ve gotten to use it more often during break.”

“Well, that’s sensible,” he said, looking down and kicking imaginary dust on the wooden planks beneath his feet. “I’ve got to go off and find my snitch now then. Best of luck with your...dancing attempts,” he drawled the last two words out in amusement before jumping on his broom and flying off.  Hermione turned and continued on her path to meet Hagrid, analyzing the encounter she’d just had. Her second unusual conversation with Draco Malfoy in a week. “ _ What is he playing at? _ ” she asked herself, trying to think of what she might have that he could possibly be after. Whatever he wanted, Hermione wished her friends were here. “I am a good dancer,” she reassured herself, thinking of Krum’s whispered compliments while putting her headphones into her pocket. 


	5. The Week Of Christmas

Draco dropped at the long table with a loud thud and looked readily at the food laid out for the choosing. As he reached for the mashed potatoes, he noticed Granger was upsetting a house elf across the Great Hall. Draco sighed as the elf’s voice got progressively louder. It sounded like Granger was refusing to let the elf serve her and the elf was obviously upset and offended. “ _ For someone supposedly so dedicated to house elves, _ ” Draco remembered the ill-fated S.P.E.W., “ _ Granger really seems not to understand the beings at all. _ ” Ignoring the ignorant display that he found fitting for the beastly girl, Draco focused on his food. He was not in the mood for nonsense today, having spent most of the day working on the vanishing cabinet, alone with his thoughts. For hours, visions of his waning mother and of the impending murder he’d have to carry out when he finally fixed the cabinet tortured him. Draco wanted nothing more than the death-like state of deep, dreamless sleep. He resolved to go directly to sleep after eating, if he could make it through with all the noise. Suddenly it was silent and his eyes followed the red-faced girl storming out of the hall, overcome with satisfaction that he’d get to enjoy a quiet meal. 

That satisfaction lasted through the next morning’s breakfast, his good mood prompting him to spend the morning flying rather than working on his duties. It faded, however, during lunch and dinner that day when a certain witch did not show up. It was completely gone two days after the elf incident as Draco regarded the completely empty Gryffindor table with a whisper of worry from the corner of his mind. That day, he threw himself into his school assignments, eager to escape thoughts of the vanishing cabinet, the Dark Lord, his parents, and Granger. 

Hermione slipped into the prefect bath and sigh happily, thankful this was her first venture outside her room since the mortifying house elf incident three days earlier. Normally Heriomine was thankful for the prefect baths. With her duties as a prefect, having to share her room with two especially obnoxious roommates, and constantly tutoring her friends, she relished taking a quiet bath. She typically took it early on weekends to avoid anyone in the halls, but today she allowed herself to have a bit of a lie-in. After the past few days of hiding out in her room and avoiding meals, she decided today would be a day dedicated to relaxation, like the spa day her mother took her on the week before school started. It was the first time she’d ever done something like this herself and she’d laid out a careful schedule. After a bubble bath and face mask, Hermione planned to take a walk around the Great Lake and grab lunch directly from the kitchens before making some hot chocolate and settling into one of the common room’s good armchairs by the fire with her newest book. She imagined Ginny’s reaction to finding her scheduling a day like today. “Finally finished your homework for over break? It took you nearly a week - you’re slipping Granger,” she’d tease with a wink. “Let me do your hair for you!” she’d insist, jumping at the opportunity for some feminine bonding. Hermione sighed. She missed her friends. But the prefect bath would start her escape today, and for that she was especially grateful. 

She spent the bath working on wandless magic in the water, floating and moving bubbles. Once the water cooled and her fingers were pruned, Hermoine decided it was time to get out. Hermione scourgified the face mask before performing a drying spell on her hair. Looking at herself in the mirror, she scrunched up her face. A lot of what she saw was the same: her bushy hair was untamable, her nails were chewed short, and her chest was still rather flat. But over the past summer, her body had morphed dramatically, to her at least. She’d always been short and slender, but her hips had filled out considerably. As someone who did not spend much time looking at herself in the mirror, it was still a change she was adjusting to. She sighed, unsure of how to feel about her new appearance, feeling like someone forgot about the rest of her, leaving her unbalanced. Plus the scars - the crater by her ankle left from falling during the Basilisk attack and the nick above her eyebrow from the Shrieking Shack. Both went unnoticed for too long to permanently heal. Logically, she knew her appearance didn’t matter as much as her wit and compassion, but occasionally she still felt like the self-conscious 13 year old crying in the bathroom. She wrapped herself in a towel with a sigh. The point of today was to feel better, not awkward. 

Just as Hermione opened the door to head back to Gryffindor Tower, she slammed directly into another person walking in. She nearly toppled back, but a set of arms shot out to steady her. She looked up to see a frozen Draco Malfoy, his grey eyes wide and his platinum eyebrows nearly halfway up his forehead. He was clearly just as surprised to see her. She tore her eyes from his face to his full chest to his abs. Draco Malfoy in only a towel was still holding her. “ _ Ginny was right _ ,” she mused internally, before she could silence herself. “ _ Quidditch did a body good. Who knew? _ ”

“See something you like?” Draco’s amused voice cut through her voice like a knife. Hermione realized she had been staring at his pale body, snapping her eyes back up to his. His smug expression banished any embarrassment she might have felt at being caught ogling him. 

“No, absolutely not,” Hermione said primly, clutching her towel tighter around her. “If you’ll excuse me,” she broke free from his hold and rushed past him. “ _ Back to early morning baths it is _ ,” she determined mentally as she practically ran back to her room, her fuzzy slippers smacking the stone loudly the entirety of the way. 

Draco was torn between satisfaction and confusion as he locked the door behind him. He had watched her brown eyes slowly drink in all the details of his body while he held her and was rather scandalized by how bold she had been, and how intimate the moment was. Only two women had been in that sort of position with him before: Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass. Contrary to the Hogwarts gossip mill, he stuck closer to the expectations of pureblood society than most of his contemporaries. Draco relaxed into the hot water of the bath and closed his eyes. Rather than the welcome darkness, he kept seeing flashes of Hermione beneath his eyelids: her smooth olive skin, her tantalizing collarbone peeking out from beneath her frizzy curls, her delicate hands clutching the towel with white knuckles. “ _ Who knew the know-it-all was hiding a body under her robes all this time? _ ” the thought came racing to the forefront of his mind. “ _ Disgusting _ ,” he chided himself for thinking about Granger as a girl, rather than the annoying swot she was. The smell of vanilla lingered long after she left. 

The scent was one he kept thinking of over the next few days. It floated around him when he tried to sleep and distracted him while he worked on the vanishing cabinet. It was intoxicating and unbearable and thrilling all at once. Finally Draco couldn’t take it anymore, deciding to take a walk around the castle to clear his mind. It was working until he passed the library and a yell grabbed his attention. He peered in to find Peeves throwing books around the room. 

“I’m sorry!” he heard Hermione’s voice scream. He looked around from the safety of the doorway for the petite witch, his eyes finally landing on her hiding under a table. She looked up upon hearing his laughter. 

“Malfoy! Could you distract him?” she pleaded. “I didn’t mean to upset him and now Madam Pince will blame me for this destruction when she gets back. My wand is back in my room and nothing wandless has worked so far!”

“Absolutely not, Granger! Firstly, why would I risk taking a book to this face for you?” he gestured to his face with a stoic expression. “Secondly, this is too good to stop. And thirdly, it is Christmas break for Circe’s sake. Take a break from the books!” he said as he looked for Peeves. His search stopped abruptly when a book barely missed him, thrown from Granger’s direction. He turned to glare at her, only to find her holding up a particularly rude hand gesture in his direction with a haughty look on her face. Shocked that the prissy swot would even know the v-sign, let alone use it, Draco released a cynical laugh. 

“Bye Granger!” he called in response. He replayed the moment all the way back to the dungeons. He hated to admit it, but seeing Granger flustered or embarrassed was turning out to be the highlight of his break. 

Hermione sighed as she watched the blond boy retreat. Of course he was the one to find her; he was probably the least likely person to help in the entire castle. Her eyes returned to Peeves as she formulated a plan to distract him so she could get her wand before the librarian returned. 


	6. Cheers

Draco shifted uncomfortably on the green couch, the common room abandoned. The remaining Slytherins were still at the feast that Draco hadn’t been able to bring himself to attend. He sighed, staring blankly into the fire. Draco was not one to get easily bored. Yet, he was finished with his assigned work, done with the book his mother had sent him as an early Christmas gift before she went silent, finished with his hidden pack of Bernie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, and alone with his thoughts again on Christmas Eve. 

He wondered what his parents were doing tonight, if they missed him, if they were safe. He’d heard tales of the dark festivities held in the Dark Lord’s honor before he was born, usually from a drunken Aunt Bella lost in nostalgia during the Christmas holidays. From muggle torture to blood traitor murder, that was a bag of fun that just did not appeal to Draco. Not knowing what he had them doing was suffocating, but he assumed with the Dark Lord, knowing may be worse. He thought of what Theo was doing tonight at Nott Manor (probably drinking alone), of what Blaise was doing in Italy (probably flirting at his mother’s annual Yule festivities), and even of what Pansy was doing in Bulgaria with her father (fawning over this perspective pureblood match she hadn’t shut up about in the common room for the last month). He thought a moment about Pansy, wondering what might have been. They had always been friends, and he loved her, but after their forced breakup he had felt relief. Guilt too, for making her feel bad, but overwhelming relief. Relief for keeping her safe from the Death Eaters, from his mission, and relief from the pressure that had hung over him since fourth year. He realized that while he loved her, he wasn’t in love with her, not the way he saw his father was deeply in love with his mother. But Draco would never get to be in love with someone - he would either die at the hands of Albus Dumbledore when he tried to kill him or at the hands of Voldemort when he failed to kill his headmaster. 

He dropped his head into his hands and grumbled in frustration. There had to be something he could do to stave off boredom and avoid these thoughts. He could work on his assigned pet project in the Room of Hidden things, a logical thought bubbled up. He groaned in response. He’d purposely worked slowly on that this term in an effort to put off the inevitable he was facing this spring: taking the mark, granting Death Eaters access into the castle, and killing Dumbledore. Draco started in the opposite direction, to his room, to avoid that particular train of thought. 

As he walked he considered what he could do to stay busy tonight. His main source of entertainment over break had been his run-ins with Granger. She’d likely be in the library again, working on something. Perhaps he could seek her out tonight and….and what? He couldn’t think of a believable excuse he could give for sitting down and chatting with her. It’s not like he could tell her why he needed a distraction. And why would she ever talk to him anyway? Frustration rose in his chest - why did he keep thinking about this witch? He flopped face first down on his bed in a rather undignified fashion, letting out a surprised yelp when he landed on something hard. He reached into his robe pockets and pulled out Theo’s forgotten flask. “ _ Drinking could certainly be a distraction _ ,” Draco reasoned as he traced the engraved snake that adorned the flask. The faint smell of vanilla hit him as he opened the flask, making him chuckle at his own ridiculousness. He’d thought he’d been thinking about the swot all week, and really it was just this in his pocket the whole time. 

“Very well, Theo. Cheers to the last bit of life I have left,” he said out loud to his empty room before taking a thoughtful pause. “And cheers to a quick death,” he added, raising his flask and picturing Theo doing the same back to him. He raised it again this door thinking of Granger and an otherwise practically empty castle. “And cheers to this bloody place too I guess.”

The scent of parchment hit him hard as he put the flask to his lips. He took a big swig and considered the taste. Definitely not the run of the mill firewhiskey. “What is this Theo?” Draco muttered, feeling the overwhelming anxiety that had been swallowing him since fifth year suddenly lifted. He was light as air, floating back toward his bed. And he was...something else? He felt a joy rising up in his body, an emotion that had been noticeably absent in the past seventh months. Upon identifying the emotion, he decided to down the rest of the flask in one gulp, desperate to feel the elusive state once again. Suddenly all he could smell was the strong scent of vanilla. 

Draco melted back into the bed. “Cheers Theo,” he said to himself, fingers outlining the first genuine grin to cross his lips in months. 

Across the castle and several floors up, Hermione was having a remarkably good night. Christmas Eve in the Hogwarts Library alone was a fantasy that she didn’t know she had. She’d finally made peace with Peeves yesterday, able to make herself comfortable in one of her favorite places on earth. At 4PM this afternoon Hermioine waltzed through every single aisle, pulling both favorites and new editions. It was nearly 9PM now and she had just cracked open  _ Hogwarts: A History. _ No matter how many times she read the book, it would always be her favorite. Hogwarts was the first real taste of the wizarding world she was able to claim as her’s. She loved reading about the ghosts she spoke to regularly, the complex enchantments put on the Great Hall over the years, and about the library she sat in at this very moment. She was lost in a paragraph about Rowena Ravenclaw when an unexpected voice interrupted her.

“You are so beautiful.” She looked up, startled by the interruption, and felt her jaw drop. The tall form of Draco Malfoy was standing over her, staring intensely at her. Did he just say that to her? “Just so beautiful,” the blond boy whispered as a dreamy smile broke out over his face.

“Excuse me? Are you speaking to me?” she heard her own voice say, sounding especially far away. Had she fallen asleep while reading and dropped into a nightmare?

His face dropped. “Of course I’m speaking to you, gorgeous” he raised his voice in response, apparently irritated by her question. While the tone certainly sounded like Malfoy she knew, the words did not. “I’m speaking to the most attractive, smartest, bravest woman on the planet.” She gaped at him as he pulled up a chair next to her. Lowering himself entirely too close to her, he propped his chin up and leaned over the corner of the table, studying her. Hermione felt herself shift away in her chair, eyes still locked together. While his gray eyes looked softer than normal, they were rapt on her. She looked away quickly, knowing she was blushing against her will at this onslaught of attention. “Are you sure you’re a muggle and not part Veela?” he whispered. 

“Malfoy are you quite drunk?” she demanded bluntly, thunderstruck at the overt behavior she’d never expected directed towards her by any pureblood fanatic, let alone her school tormentor. She recognized the look he was giving her though. Hermione had seen Seamus Finnigan look at Parvati Patil this way at a post-quidditch party in the common room before pouncing on her last year. He had been funneling butterbeer for a good hour before the move, spurned on by liquid courage. Perhaps whatever firewhiskey Draco had been imbibing to bring Christmas Eve cheer had driven him mad? She looked nothing like Pansy Parkinson, nor any of the other well-coiffed Slytherin girls she’d caught flirt openly with Draco.

“No, just love drunk,” he said airily, with that uncharacteristically wide smile back on his face. She hadn’t seen him smile in some time. Not that he ever smiled at  _ her _ , of course. Nothing so positive for The Boy Who Lived, the Weasel, and the  _ mudblood _ , she thought bitterly. The most that was ever directed at her or her friends was a malicious smirk. But she at least had seen him genuinely smile in passing moments. Talking eagerly about quidditch with Blaise Zambini during dinner across the Great Hall. Smiling proudly at Pansy Parkinson during the Yule Ball. Laughing at a joke Theo Nott cracked in class. But she had not seen it in maybe a year. She realized he had become a shadow of himself this year. Quiet, sullen, and exhausted looking. Perhaps Harry was right, something was decidedly off with Malfoy this year. 

An invasive hand came to rest on her own, startling her out of the thoughts swirling around her. When she pulled her hand away quickly, he frowned and looked like a wounded animal. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he pleaded, the smile returning to his face. Hermione couldn’t find a trace of twisted glee at her discomfort.

“You really are drunk,” she scoffed in astonishment. Draco Malfoy would never say anything like this. That was just it...Draco Malfoy would never act like this. Without abandon or an agenda. Even drunk. She imagined he would be a stoic drunk, or maybe even an angry drunk at most. But not a lovesick fool. Either this was a sick joke he was playing on her or….or this was a sick joke someone was playing on  _ him _ . She looked at him again. Glassy eyes, soft smile, sweet nothings to a woman he couldn’t stand. “ _ Love potion _ ,” she wagered. Someone dosed Draco Malfoy with a love potion meant to attract him to someone he hated. “ _ Great _ ,” she sighed. “ _ What am I meant to do now? _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kicking off my favorite part of the story: Christmas Eve! What did you guys think about Draco's change?


	7. A New Brew

After a few moments of his silent staring, Hermione started to devise a plan. If her suspicion was correct, a love potion could wear off between a few hours and a few days, depending on the type. Should it be a strong potion, she’d have to put up with this strange behavior for days, and it certainly seemed strong. She could go to Slughorn for help with an antidote, but then she’d likely be stuck talking to him for hours on Christmas Eve. That was potentially worse than dealing with a disgustingly lovesick Draco Malfoy. She could go to another professor for help, but what if they thought she slipped him the love potion on purpose? She knew that typically people were meant to fall for the person who gave them the potion, so any professor might assume she had dosed this boy against his will and now regretted it. She also didn’t know how to factor in Draco’s reaction upon being cured. Would he blame her too? Hermione was especially curious how the potion maker had brewed this potion to force the blond currently invading her personal space to have feelings for her. Was the potion meant to frame her? Or just make her the butt of whatever joke this was? Regardless, she determined her best course of action would be to brew an antidote and administer it as soon as possible. 

“Mal- Draco,” she whispered sweetly, his given name sounding foreign in her mouth. “Why don’t you come with me somewhere a little more private?” Hermione cringed internally at how that sounded, but she knew if she played along that it would be easier to get him to agree with her. She grabbed her bag and stood up, giving him her sweetest smile.

“I like the sound of that,” he muttered with a dreamy smile still plastered on his pale face as he shot up with her. 

“I’m sure you do,” she laughed, taking his hand and leading him towards the Potions lab. She mentally congratulated herself on acquiring Slughorn’s permission to work in the lab over the break. It made up for the disaster that was his Christmas party before break started. She shuddered, remembering how Connor McLaggen leered at her the entire night, eager for her attention. 

“Could you keep calling me that?” Malfoy asked as he walked with her, his large hand dwarfing her own. She noticed his hand was softer than she expected as he laced his fingers though her’s.

“Calling you what?”

“Draco. I like the way it sounds when you say it,” he muttered, suddenly much closer to her. Hermoine’s pulse quickened, uncomfortable with having this drugged boy so near to her. “I’m going to dream tonight of you saying it,”he added, his voice like honey. 

Her stomach dropped. “ _Merlin, this is astounding._ _Draco Malfoy has the capability to be rather charming...even in an embarrassingly forward way_ ,” she thought, looking away from him. Hermione imagined what they boys would do if they were here. Would Harry be laughing? Maybe if it was a different Slytherin sweet talking to her while under the influence. He was so violently suspicious of Draco, especially this year, that he’d likely attack him on sight. What would Ron do? Ron. Well, he’d probably be lip locked with Lavender, too busy to notice. Hermoine sighed heavily as they approached the Potions Lab, stopping at the door and fiddling with the charmed keys she’d collected from a handful of her teachers. 

“Sickle for your thoughts, gorgeous?” Draco practically purred, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he leaned against the stone wall. “ _ His lips look soft, _ ” Hermione realized. He’d really grown into his features more since last year, shedding his sharpness for a more filled-out look. She couldn’t believe she hadn't noticed how handsome his face had become before. The image of him shirtless just outside the prefect bath popped into her mind, forcing her cheeks to turn a rather festive color. Her eyes were still on his lips when they started moving closer to her, Draco gently grabbing her arm to pull her in. 

“Stop that,” she said crossly, swatting away his touch. “ _ Did he really just try to kiss me? _ ” Turning away from him and finally finding the correct key, she unlocked the Potions lab and motioned for him to enter.

“Naughty,” Malfoy arched a blonde eyebrow suggestively and nodded towards the keys. 

“I-yo-no, no, no” she managed. “Slughorn gave the Potions lab key to me. For work. Not for,” she motioned between the two of them. “Not for this.” 

“As long as there is a this, I don’t care where we go, beautiful,” Draco retorted as he strolled into the room. 

“Merlin,” she cursed in exasperation as she followed him. “My interest in bringing you here is scientific, not romantic,” Hermione lectured. “I am going to brew you something just for you,” she added sweetly, hoping that playing along would make the process easier. 

“Scientific, sure. Says the minx bringing me to a locked room in a secluded part of the castle. Seems like you’re interested in an experiment,” he said as he winked. “But for your affections, I’ll try anything.” Hermione turned away from him quickly to avoid his intense stare. 

“Stop, just sit there and don’t do anything rash,” she warned him as she started grabbing supplies from the different closets in the room. 

“Hermione,” he said quietly and paused, as though waiting for her to look at him. Herimoine felt her heart flutter at the sound of her first name. She supposed he was just as shocked when she called him Draco, as it was jarring to hear her name said so gently by someone who had never called her that before. She ignored him, dropping her gathered supplies at the table furthest away from him. “Hermione,” he repeated a bit louder, still waiting.

“Shush,” she quieted him, not taking her eyes off her work station. He didn’t say anything, allowing her to relax and focus. She began chopping and measuring, absentmindedly chewing her bottom lip as she went. Potions was not her best class - in fact it was the only one she was not top of the class for. But she enjoyed the structure of crafting potions. Follow the instructions to a t and you should get the exact product you set out for. Unless you use the cursed, evil book Harry was using this year. She rolled her eyes just at the thought of his cheating and absolute refusal to own up to it. 

Suddenly the hair on the back of her neck stood up, a presence to her left. “ _ Too close, too close _ ,” shouted a voice from the back of Herimoine’s brain as her breathing hitched. 

“You really are the most beautiful girl in the entire school,” he whispered, picking up a curl of her hair and twirling it gently. 

“This must be the strongest stuff ever brewed,” Hermione mused under her breath. She turned around to face him, staring directly up at his attentive eyes. “Me? With my bushy hair and terrible teeth?” she asked, meaning to joke. Her voice came out harsher and more strangled than she anticipated. 

“You must know I never meant any of that. Well…maybe the teeth bit before they were fixed,” he conceded after a moment of consideration. At least she knew Malfoy was still in there somewhere. “But not the hair,” he said, still twirling it. “Never really the hair. It is so very...Granger.”

“Is that meant to be a compliment?” How many times had he twisted even her last name into a demeaning insult? This was the first time she wasn’t 100% sure it was meant to hurt her. 

“Yes,” he sighed happily, leaning even closer to her and gingerly tucking the hair he had been playing with behind her ear. 

“I’m shocked you’d bother complimenting a mudblood,” Hermione tried a different tactic, testing him. She felt his breath hot on her cheek as soon as she said it. 

“Don’t use that word,” Draco commanded sharply, his forehead creased with concern. “Don’t ever use that word,” his thumb brushed her cheek and his eyes searched her's, but for what she didn’t know. She moved her face out of his grasp before taking a step to the side to widen the gap between them. 

“A sudden change of heart about bigoted language?” she challenged again, her tone sharp. “You’ve never had a problem calling me that.”

“I didn’t realize what the word even really meant until this summer,” he admitted softly, finally breaking their gaze and looking away from her. “I know I was cruel to you, maybe even more than your imbecile friends.” 

“ _ Still Malfoy _ ,” she registered internally at his instance to continue to insult her best friends. He glanced back at her and rolled his jaw. “You don’t understand what you did to me. Since birth, I was told I was superior. Not just a pureblood, but a Malfoy and a Black. I just couldn’t admit to myself that I was being outdone by a muggleborn in all my classes. A brilliant muggleborn. A spitfire muggleborn. A beautiful muggleborn. I grew up in this world and you came in at 11, and you still beat me in everything. That goes against everything I was ever taught,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his robe pockets and looking down. “Everything you touch turns to gold. If you could actually get up on a broom, I expect you’d outdo both me and Potter.”

“I’m supposed to believe that you were, what, acting out? Torturing me because you didn’t like that I was not some stereotype?” Hermione snapped in disbelief at his apparent vulnerability. 

“Believe what you want, Hermione. But I am sorry for what I said,” Draco said quietly, taking a few steps back from her, watching her again. But this time it was not the same dreamy quality, but something more vulnerable. “This summer I saw my father for who he is and the Dark Lord for everything he will be. None of it matters in the end. Blood is just blood.”

“Blood is just blood,” she repeated slowly with a nod. Her thoughts were moving faster than she could keep up; there was a lot of information to sort through. He watched her carefully, conflict storming on his face, as she stepped back, turning back to the cauldron. She put her processing on hold and returned her focus to the final ingredients. “Just a few hours and it will be done” she muttered to herself, stirring the last pieces of the puzzle in. “What would you like to do while we wait?” She asked with a forced cheer over her shoulder. 

“We could always kiss to pass the time,” Draco’s voice suggested sweetly from somewhere behind her. 

“ _ Morgana, this is going to be a long few hours, _ ” she thought as she hoisted her eyes skyward, searching for inner strength to deal with this absurd situation. “Why don’t we just talk instead?” Hermione turned back towards the blond, giving Draco a small smile as she reminded herself that he was not himself. 

“Okay,” he responded, the sleepy smile back on his face. “Whatever you want to do, gorgeous.”

“Tell me something about yourself Draco,” she took a seat on the table next to the potion, watching as Draco walked to the table across from her and took a seat. She’d never seen someone under the potion outside of their controlled class environment, but she was certain for her reading that this type of honesty was an unusual symptom. Hermione wanted to continue to test him. Plus, she’d found herself curious about him, especially since the break started.

“I’m terrified and alone,” he said calmly, after a moment of thought.“I haven’t heard from Mother since before the break started and I am worried about her. Pansy was the one who came up with the Potter stinks idea and she let me take credit because she knows how much I despise Potty,” he continued rapidly before Herimoine could comment on his first statement. “I didn’t buy my way onto the quidditch team, even though I know you think I did. I am rather good at the sport, and it was an added benefit that my father could provide the team with new brooms.”

“Do you think Veritaserum was in whatever you consumed?” she asked with a light laugh, shocked again at the word vomit Draco was putting forth and not sure what to dig into first.

“No, that would be dangerous for us both,” Draco said as his face darkened quickly. Hermioine wondered what he meant. “I’m just telling you things about me that you don’t know. And Veritaserum has a very specific taste. This just tasted like my firewhiskey turned. I did smell vanilla and parchment though,” he shrugged as the darkness faded away from him.

“I smell parchment too, with amortentia,” she admitted, surprised at herself for volunteering personal information. 

“I can’t say that comes as a shock. You’d probably stay in school forever,” Draco teased lightly, a stark contrast to how he usually bullied her. This was playful, not brutally personal. Hermione found herself giggling mildly in agreement. “ _ Who knew Draco could be fun? Or drugged Draco, _ ” she supposed. “Hogwarts’ most beautiful scholar,” he hummed contently as he leaned back on a table. 

“What did you mean about it being dangerous for you to tell me the truth?”

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous for you if you told me the truth? You’re the brains, right? Potter’s secret keeper and all that,” Draco said, arching his brow. Hermione wondered who’s secrets he was keeping now, now more worried Harry’s suspicions were correct. “Merlin, you are perfect. You already know exactly what I mean, don’t you? I’ve never met anyone so brilliant.”

“We could do something productive while we wait, you know,” she ventured after a moment of silence, flustered by the over the top attention and mind working quickly to sort through everything he’d shared. “Why don’t we study? I’ve finished all the potions readings for the semester, but I was planning on reading ahead. Would you like to join me, Draco?”

“Anything you’d like, love,” Draco readily agreed. Hermione nodded before grabbing her potions book off the table, knowing this temporary truce would evaporate the moment he consumed her antidote. 


	8. Playing Games

“Well guess I’d kill Slughorn, marry MaGonnagall, and snog Snape?” Hermione laughed as she admitted the combination. This was the fifth round of the game Draco had introduced her to and he’d made the decision to move the options from the student body to professors. “Though that was a cruel combination you picked for me.”

“You’d kill Slughorn? You must really hate not being first in the class in potions, love,” Draco inelegantly gwaffed from his casual position on the table across from her. This open and relaxed Malfoy was a sight she still hadn’t adjusted to, but rather liked. 

“Hey! You picked those three!” she protested, the smile still on her face. After an hour or so of studying and quizzing each other on the new material, Malfoy started asking her questions about her other classes to get her talking. It evolved into discussions about their favorite books, a spirited debate about house elf rights, and stupid games the Slytherin boys played to pass the time. She was shocked that she could have so much fun, and so much in common, with this boy who went out of his way to torment her and her friends. 

It wasn’t all fun, though. Even as they laughed and teased each other, Hermione’s mind kept returning to Malfoy’s troubling statements from earlier. Though he was in an altered state, Malfoy refused to talk more about feeling scared and alone. It bothered her; she wondered if Harry was right that Malfoy had strayed further into the Dark. But unlike Harry, Hermione now wondered if it wasn’t his choice. She suspected at a minimum his feelings were related to Lucius. Visions of the ruthless blond hunting her in the Department of Mysteries haunted her nightmares. She couldn’t imagine what living with him was like, especially with the expectations he surely had. Hermione felt a pang of guilt that she’d never thought of Malfoy’s situation like that. Instead, she’d been focused on hating him for his incessant bullying. “ _ It has to stem from something _ ,” she found herself thinking. She noted her suspicion in her mental index, planning to return to it when Harry came back to school.

“I can’t believe you’d snog Severus, Hermione,” Draco fake gagged while shaking his head. “Surely not.”

“Severus? A little familiar with your head of house there, Draco,” Hermione questioned, using the authoritative voice she reserved for her duties as a prefect. 

“Yes, well, we are rather familiar I suppose. He’s my godfather,” he shrugged, looking at the ceiling above. Hermione revisited how leniently Snape treated Malfoy in class, a puzzle suddenly solved with this late night confession.

“No wonder you hardly get in trouble in his classes. I assumed it was a loyalty to your dear house. Instead it is an even more privileged reason,” Hermione rolled her eyes before grinning at him.

“That certainly plays a role, beautiful,” he conceded as he swung his legs over the table, back to looking at her. “But only one of us here would be kissing him. I never thought there’d be a day I was jealous of Severus. Let’s move away from you kissing other men, minx. You can ask me one now, professors or students.”

“No, you keep picking me to snog even though I am  _ never _ offered up as an option. Do you have any other parlor games like this?” she asked, sitting back up to face him as well. She knew she’d at least introduce this to Ginny, who would eat the game up. “We don’t play too many games like this in the Tower. Usually Exploding Snap or Truth or Dare.”

“Truth or Dare? We could certainly try that,” Draco smiled wolfishly at her. “I have a few dares in mind. But I like this game.”

“Oh, we’ll have to put a hold on any new games, I believe,” she halted him, pointing down at the cauldron as a new color caught her eye. The liquid was finally pink. “ _ Not a moment too soon, _ ” she sighed internally, thankful she wouldn’t have to play Truth or Dare with this Draco Malfoy. 

“Oh, come now Hermione. This is a fun game, you were just laughing with me. Just one more,” he pleaded, almost childlike in his enthusiasm. “I want to hear you laugh again, my beautiful witch. It is the best sound I’ve ever heard.”

Hopping off the table, Hermione walked to the cabinet and grabbed a glass for herself. “Fine, I’ll pick the options myself,” Draco resigned, huffing in frustration at her lack of attention. Hermione ignored him as she poured the pink mixture in. “Gryffindor edition: you, Ginny Weasley, and Lavender Brown.”

As he said the last name, Hermione’s stomach dropped. Even though her crush on Ron had faded, or really burned rapidly to a crisp, after Lavender entered the picture, her roommate still made her skin crawl. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, forcing a giggle to escape her mouth. She paused to look at him before she turned around, feeling a hint of sadness. She couldn’t deny that she had fun tonight, with Draco Malfoy of all people. She’d been feeling especially isolated for the last few weeks, so she was sure that played into this irrational feeling. Without the aggression and the insults, she found Malfoy was surprisingly good company. But he wasn’t like Harry or Ron or even Ginny. He enjoyed debating with her, read a surprising amount of her favorite wizarding authors, and was quite funny. Even if it was all sandwiched between pet names and compliments he did not mean. She sighed, pushing the wistfulness out of her mind and mentally bidding the boy from tonight farewell. In a few moments, she’d have to deal with a likely irate and ruthless Malfoy. She was sure he’d be barking mad and eager to blame her. Hermione steeled herself for new insults. 

“Drink this,” she turned to face him, offering the cup. He disregarded her command and the cup with a smile, stepping slowly closer, focused on answering the question he set up for himself instead. 

“We’ll start with kill. Honestly, it is a toss up between the Weaslette and Brown. Both are obnoxiously loud. Both are not particularly smart. Both are linked to the Weasel, either by blood or by mouth,” Draco shuddered theatrically. Hermione laughed in spite of herself, making Draco grin widely at her. 

“Draco -”

“I’m not done. I’d kill Brown, I’d say. She tends to prattle on and I’ve only seen her with  _ Witch Weekly _ and never an actual book. Which means, I’d have to marry the ginger, because that way I would never have to touch her, ” Draco rolled his eyes. “Perhaps we could even play quidditch together after the big ceremony.”

“Come on, drink this,” she held out the glass for him. In two quick steps Draco closed the remaining distance between them, reaching for the glass and covering her hand with his as he moved to take it. 

“Which leaves my favorite question, who do I pick to snog?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. Hermione’s heart thumped loudly in her chest as she stared down at their hands in surprise. The smell of his spiced cologne invaded her senses, his breath so close she could feel the heat of it on her face and hear it’s rapid succession pounding in her ears. 

With his other hand, Draco gently lifted her chin up towards him. Hermione stared into the cloudy skies within his eyes, darker than she’d seen them before. She watched as those eyes fell to her lips, and he gently ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Before she could move, his mouth came crashing into her’s. Shocked, her entire body froze, glued in its spot. She could only focus on how soft his lips felt against her’s. After a moment of adrenaline rushing through her, Hermione closed her eyes and kissed him back. Her kiss was deeper, her mind utterly empty in perhaps the first time in her life. Draco’s hand traveled down, settling gently on the base of her neck. His thumb gingerly set across the hollow of her clavicle, sending shivers down her spine. She parted her lips and he pulled her in further, his warm tongue gently exploring her mouth. As Draco’s kissing became more frantic, her entire body tingled. Hermione melted into him, a small moan escaping her.

“ _ No, no, this was wrong _ ,” the logical part of her brain screamed at her as her hips connected with his. With that sensation, Hermione’s stomach twisted into a knot and her eyes flew open to find his eyes serenely closed. “ _ He is under the influence of a potion. And I’m taking advantage of him. And this is Draco Malfoy for Merlin’s sake! _ ” With her free arm, she pushed him back, disgusted with herself. As they broke apart, he looked down at her with a goofy grin, oblivious to her face twisted in shame. 

“Just drink it,” she looked away from him, mortified and unable to meet his eyes, as she lifted the glass towards him, with both their hands still around it. She let go, waiting for him to take it. 

“Will drinking that mean this stops?” Draco asked quietly, eyeing the drink cautiously. 

“It will just make you feel more like yourself, Draco,” Hermione mumbled, shoving it closer and wishing for a quick escape. 

“No, I don’t want to feel like that ever again,” Draco staggered back a few steps, shaking his head. “Please, I can’t,” he said as his voice cracked in panic. Hermione put the glass down and ran over to him, debating only a second before pulling him into a deep hug. Her embarrassment over her actions from earlier could wait. Something was clearly very wrong with Draco Malfoy and after tonight was done she resolved to figure out what. 

“It’s okay, Draco. It’s okay, you don’t have to drink it,” Hermione said softly into his chest as he clung to her. She knew she couldn’t leave him without the antidote, but there is no way he'd take it like this. “Why don’t we do a shot together instead? I have a flask in my bag,” Hermione lied as sweetly as she could, hoping this method would work. If he’d been willing to drink alone without the influence of the potion, she wagered that he'd jump at the chance to drink with her now.

“Trying to get me drunk now, beautiful?” He broke away to grin at her, giving her a saucy wink. “Like I said earlier, anything for you.” Hermione plastered on a smile and walked over to her bag. With her back turned to him, she grabbed the glass with the potion from the table and pretended to fiddle with it over her bag as though she were pouring him a beverage. This time he readily took the glass from her. 

“You don’t have one, gorgeous?” he asked. “How can we do a proper cheers together without you having a shot?”

“Fine, fine, let me get one,” Hermione yielded, grabbing another glass in an effort to speed up the process. What the wizard thought he was drinking was beyond her, but she was eager to leave as soon as possible. After pretending to pour another glass over her bag, she returned to him, a measured distance away this time to avoid contact. 

“To new beginnings, Hermione,” Draco raised an eyebrow suggestively before clinking their glasses together and throwing the liquid back. Hermione meanwhile placed her empty glass back on the table and watched him. As soon as he downed the pink liquid, Hermione grabbed her things and fled, leaving Draco alone in the middle of the lab. After the door slammed closed, Draco started. The fuzziness around the edges of his brain evaporated quickly, and any joy the potion had provided with it. 

“What in Circe’s name had just happened?” he croaked, grimacing as he pulled his brain out of the shadows and into focus. He walked towards the door, thinking through the last few hours. Suddenly, his fingers flew to his mouth, tracing where her lips met his. “Granger?” he shouted at the door in confusion, before it triggered a pounding headache. He sank down against the cold stone wall, the pain overwhelming. God, he felt worse than he did before he drank Theo’s gift. “Theo’s gift...that son of bitch,” he groaned before everything abruptly went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas Eve kiss :) How are you feeling about their Christmas Eve so far?


	9. Hermione's Christmas Morning

Hermione still hadn’t fallen asleep when the sun rose on Christmas Day. Instead of slumbering with visions of sugar plums dancing in her head, she had worn the carpet in her room thin with her continuous pacing over the last few hours, reviewing the night repeatedly. Her brain, simply put, was in overdrive, a setting usually reserved for dark wizards and saving Harry Potter’s life. No matter how many times she revisited it, she could not work out how last night had played out as it did. And, more importantly, why. Why would someone give Draco Malfoy a love potion? Who dosed Draco? Was it their aim for her to be the target of his affections or a potion gone awry? Past the potion, Draco Malfoy also posed another mystery that Hermione was eager to crack. He all but admitted he was involved in something nefarious, and Hermione intended to find out what. Unlike Harry’s suspicions from earlier in the term, Hermione didn’t think Draco was a major player. Instead, she wanted to save the friend she made last night from whatever gave him the panic attack - if that friend was truly lurking under the cold exterior of Malfoy. 

At random intervals the memory of their kiss would overwhelm her careful analysis. She actively tried to block it from her mind, but it wormed its way back in with alarming persistence. Thoughts of previous kisses never stuck in her brain like gum that wouldn’t dislodge from your shoe. Hermione had kissed three boys prior to last night. 

Her first kiss was with her neighbor, Colin Jones. They had been best friends throughout primary school and he was devastated that she’d be leaving to go to a faraway boarding school. The day before she boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time, they’d sat in a tree in the park down the lane from their homes, talking until the sunset. Just before they left, the chubby boy grabbed her shoulders without warning and reached up to kiss the taller girl quickly. While just a chaste peck, it had left 11 year old Hermione reeling for weeks. In a new school with no friends, Hermione thought back to the moment often in the first few months at Hogwarts, when she was at her loneliest. He moved away before she returned, but the memory of her first kiss would crop up every one in awhile, making her smile with fond nostalgia for that innocent time.

Her next kiss didn’t come until fourth year when a romance with Viktor Krum had blossomed over a mutual love of literature. The famous quidditch player stole his first kiss the night of the Yule Ball after walking her back to the portrait entrance to Gryffindor Tower. When she moved to hug him goodbye, Victor leaned in, brushing her lips with his. While almost as pure as her first kiss, it light a fire in her chest. For the next few months, he didn’t have to steal any kisses from her; she readily gave them. They shared gentle kisses goodnight after study sessions together and more passionate kisses between reading next to the Great Lake. Though he couldn’t pronounce her name and they were now just friends, Hermione held a special place in her heart for the respectful and gallant boy who gave her her real first kiss. 

Then there had been Josh, the English muggle boy she met while her extended family went skiing in France last year before she returned to help Harry. Her much older cousins dragged her to a party in the lodge, where she and Josh started talking over red solo cups full of beer. Having a hard time hearing each other over the noise of their fellow party goers, Hermione suggested they take a walk around the ski lodge. Josh held her hand as they talked about muggle politics and dredged through the snow. When partygoers’ fireworks sprung into the sky to welcome the new year, Josh grabbed her other hand and captured her with a hard kiss. She welcomed it, unsure of herself at first, before leaning further in. Once the fireworks subsided, she stepped back and thanked him before scurrying back to her parents’ suite. 

Last night’s kiss was different than any kiss she had experienced before. Firstly, because she hated the kisser in question until just a few hours before the kiss. Or possibly still hated him, should the boy she enjoyed spending time with not really exist within Draco Malfoy. She had yet to determine that. But besides the person she kissed, the kiss itself was more intense than any she’d previously partook in. From soft to desperate in a span of a few minutes, she’d wanted to keep kissing him for hours. That desire made her more ashamed of her actions because he had been under the influence and not acting right. Even if he had instigated their kiss, he couldn’t consent to it like that, not really. Each time she’d reach these thoughts, she’d groan and actively think of the mysteries at hand instead. 

At 6AM Crookshanks’ meowing forced her to break out of this cycle. “Merry Christmas Crooks,” she whispered to him as she fed him breakfast. She surveyed the presents sitting on the trunk at the end of her bed, wondering if she should open them. While she felt her biggest Christmas gift was not having to worry about Lavender and Parvati prattling away about Ron in the room, ignoring her, she had several packages to open. None of course, were from her parents. Hermione thought of them for the first time today, wondering how they were celebrating in Australia. She imagined them on the beach, enjoying a summer Christmas instead of the winter wonderland she was currently buried in. Hermione’s heart ached. She wished for one of her dad’s bear hugs and for her mom’s calm advice when she struggled with a problem. “Not that I’d tell Mum about last night,” Hermione muttered to the empty room, her stomach twisting at the thought of the kiss again. The one pleasant aspect of last night’s ordeal was that it had distracted Hermione completely from spending Christmas Eve alone in Gryffindor Tower, missing her parents and friends. “I suppose I should thank the mystery person who curated last night for that one grace,” she said to Crookshanks as she sorted her presents into neat stacks. 

Her hands rushed to the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes package, stocked with sugar quills, muggle Christmas candy she knew they packed in just for her, and a prototype for a homework planner she had suggested, which would remind the owner when they forgot an upcoming assignment, much to the twins' chagrin at the time. The note in the front informed her she’d received the only copy that would ever exist, prompting her to chuckle to herself. The rest of the gifts were unsurprising: a scarf and jumper from Mrs. Weasley, a blank floppy disk from an unknowing Mr. Weasley, a new quill from Neville, a Christmas edition of the Quibbler from Luna, and a book on advanced healing spells from Harry. Ron’s gift surprised her, however. She’d saved it for last, surprised he’d bothered given their ongoing row. He had haphazardly wrapped a photo of herself, him, and Harry, taken last summer at The Burrow. The three of them smiled for the camera before dissolving into fits of laughter. Hermione smiled, her finger gently outlining the shapes of her best friends. The photo and the fact that Ron had decided to give it to her, put her mind the most at ease as it had been since before Malfoy showed up in the library last night. 

She gently placed the frame on her nightstand, alongside the unmoving photo of her parents on their last holiday to Paris. Sighing, Hermione turned back to the heap of gifts and began to clean away the wrapping paper. Another gift rolled towards her, a small tube in bright red paper. She lifted it to inspect the card, which read, “You deserve this. Promise me you’ll use it on Christmas - I know you won’t be alone at Hogwarts. Don’t let Ron be the only one who gets all the fun. Love, Gin.” Hermione glared at the note suspiciously, wondering what kind of trouble her friend wrapped up for her. 

Ripping the paper off, Hermione inspected the small tube. It was an enchanted lipstick, made with powdered Veela hair, that promised both undivided attention to your lips by any surrounding men and a better quality of kisses. Hermione laughed at what clearly had to be a gag gift from Ginny. But under that laugh she felt a pang of loneliness. She missed Ginny. She missed everyone. Twisting the container in her hand, she thought of her parents, the empty common room, and Harry and the Weasleys at the Burrow. She couldn’t deny the heavy feeling in her chest when she reflected on her yuletide isolation, nor could she ignore the temptation to escape it. For a moment she considered skipping breakfast and ignoring facing Draco Malfoy today, opting for a happy Christmas instead. 

“I can’t use this,” Hermione decided, slipping the vial into her nightstand drawer and slamming it shut to punctuate her point. She sat back on her bed, thinking of who her friend had thought she might kiss and chewing her bottom lip. Again, the kiss from the previous night invaded her mind. Hermione knew she had to approach Draco to apologize for her actions, which she was dreading. But she also hoped he’d help her get to the bottom of what actually happened. She reached for the parchment she’d scribbled on all night. She took out a fresh sheet to organize her scattered thoughts and began writing:

_ Priorities Before Break Ends _

  * _Apologize to ~~D~~ Malfoy for behavior last night _


  * Ask him about the potion


  *     * He mentioned he was drinking firewhiskey, which smelled like vanilla and parchment, likely the source


  *     * See if he knew where the firewhiskey came from and ask him to identify who possible suspects could be, whether it was a prank or something more serious.


  *     * Possible suspects:


  *     *       * Pansy Parkinson - love potion somehow gone wrong?


  *     *       * Harry Potter/Ron Weasley - possibly a Weasley potion prank gone wrong, with no intention of involving me? They hate him, but still unlikely 


  * Determine what kind of trouble he is in and why he panicked last night


  *     * Likely something Dark as he mentioned it was dangerous to tell the truth, Harry’s suspicions may be accurate 


  *     * Possibly includes his mother? 


  * Try to help



She sighed as she reviewed the list. She found herself surprised that she couldn’t bring herself to write “possible Death Eater” on her list, as Harry suspected. When she dropped the paper into her nightstand drawer, Ginny’s lipstick stared back at her. She slammed the drawer forcefully before dragging herself out the door to talk to the blond at breakfast. But a few seconds later, she walked back in and grabbed the lipstick. “Let’s just see if the attention part works. For knowledge’s sake,” she muttered to herself before applying the pink lipstick to her lips. 


	10. Draco's Christmas Morning

Draco’s Christmas morning started at 5AM, when he awoke on the floor of the potions lab with a headache worse than any hangover he’d ever experienced. He struggled to rise to his feet, anxiously wracking his brain for how he ended up here. The last thing he remembered was toasting his empty dorm room with Theo’s flask. Then the memories of the rest of the night began to trickle in. With each rediscovered memory, he groaned louder. 

“Why did I say she was beautiful? And so many times?” he asked the empty room, his head in his hands, thinking about their exchange in the library. “ _ Because you think she is beautiful, git, _ ” his own voice, one he’d worked hard to suppress over the years, yelled mentally at him. “Merlin, I called her  _ naughty _ . Potter might actually kill me on his return.” He blanched and turned on his heel back to his room. Down the corridor, he replayed the evening. “I can’t believe she even tried to help me.”

“Oh, Circe,” he cursed upon thinking about what he had confessed regarding blood purity. He’d never shared any of that aloud, anxious it would somehow make it back to the ears of the Dark Lord or his father. Finally at his room, he slammed his room behind him and eased into the comfort of his bed. Just as he felt like he was about to fall asleep, another memory assaulted him. “Kill, marry, snog? Really?” he moaned into his pillow in embarrassment. “Am I thirteen?”

Then their kiss hit him. He sat straight up in bed, clutching his pillow to his chest. He felt her petite hand in his. He drank in her warm brown eyes looking up at him with apprehension and anticipation. He basked in the heat coming off her body. Draco remembered approaching her soft, pink lips gently at first, then growing more demanding, wanting her closer and closer. Draco began to smile, fully engulfed in the memory of the kiss. Granger had surprised him, her hips grinding into his. Then, his stomach dropped as he recalled her pushing him away and looking at him with sheer disgust. Draco slumped back into the bed. “ _ I cornered a woman trying to help me and forced her to kiss me _ ,” he realized, with a pit in his stomach. “ _ I’m going to murder Theo.” _

“ _ Theo. Why did Theo give me tainted firewhiskey? This had to be some sort of joke gone wrong. _ ” Draco wracked his brain for what love potion would make him act so stupidly towards a girl he detested. Without the nasty side effect of falling all over someone he didn’t and couldn’t fancy, that potion was addictive. He hadn’t realized how dark his world had become until last night, when that feeling melted away with Hermione's antidote. He’d have to ask Theo about the recipe and see if he could replicate it, sans the lovesick fool act. 

Draco threw the pillow back to the head of the bed and walked over to his trunk, pulling out ink and parchment. He’d never sent a howler before, but knew if there was ever the time for one, it would be now.

As he walked the parchment up to the owlery, Draco kept turning the previous night over in his head. Draco had never been this embarrassed when it came to a woman. He didn’t even know where to begin. This wasn’t like a kiss after a bad date. He had kissed the girl who he taunted, hexed, and insulted for years. He kissed a girl who hated him, who he hated back, and he liked it. And she didn’t. He wasn’t sure which one was worse, but was pretty sure her not liking it was the important part. Surely the potion impacted how he felt about the kiss. Maybe a quick breakfast before a long nap could help him clear his head. Then he’d just have to avoid Granger until the break ended. 

“Happy Christmas,” Draco heard a voice say quietly behind him after he’d sat down. He winced, unwilling to look up. He decided to eat breakfast this early on Christmas morning for the express purpose of avoiding this encounter. Even though he’d witnessed how she had skipped meals when upset, he still took the precaution just in case. He wasn’t prepared to talk to her yet, unsure of how he could apologize while reinstating the dynamic of their relationship prior to 9PM Christmas Eve. 

“Granger,” he nodded in her direction before turning back to his meal, never meeting her eyes. He noted the muggle jeans, his mind mentally filling in the shape of her thigh. He shook his head angrily before realizing he must look barmy. 

“Malfoy,” she returned. Draco hadn’t expected his stomach to drop in disappointment when she reverted to calling him by his last name. “Mind if I join you?” the voice came again, with more hesitation. 

“ _ Why would she want to sit with me after the disaster that was yesterday? _ ” Draco wondered, confused why any woman would want to talk to him after that horrible display. He schooled his features into a calm facade to balance the anxiety inside. 

“Are you really that lonely? Back for more?” Draco made his voice acidic, one he usually reserved just for Potter. If Hermione felt any impact, she pushed forward anyway. 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about how you are feeling. It was the first time I had brewed that particular antidote and I’ve never seen it administered. I’d love to collect some qualitative data,” she explained, sitting next to him. From the corner of his eye Draco could see tension drop from her shoulders, as if she were thankful to step away from the personal and fall behind the shield of research.

“Ah. Always a swot,” he replied, meeting her eyes for the first time. She was chewing her lip nervously at him, which he now thought was a rather charming habit. In fact, he couldn’t look away from her lips. “ _ Have they always been so plump and pink? They looked especially inviting, like they’d like another - no! _ ” He thought to himself, now angry. “ _ I’m going to kill Theo for whatever the hell that potion was, it must have had residual effects.”  _ He realized he hadn’t said anything for a few moments, only staring at her and her lips. “What’s in it for me?” Draco asked, quirking a pale eyebrow expectantly at the witch. 

“Intellectual satisfaction,” the witch responded primly, making him chuckle. “At least, that is what I’m after.”

“You know how to tempt a wizard,” Draco smirked at her for a moment. “Do sit down,” he motioned to the seat next to him. “We simply must attend to your  _ satisfaction _ .” Next to him Hermione’s eyes briefly went wide before she ducked her head and rustled around in her bag, secretly thrilling Draco. As he stifled a chuckle, he silently thanked Theo for possibly the only benefit to last night’s soiree: an added ability to get under Granger’s skin. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to apologize at all and they could both skirt the issue with comments like that instead. 

When the witch pulled out a parchment and quill, Draco scoffed loudly. “What?” Hermione asked as she glared at him. 

“Is this necessary?” he growled, pointing at her materials. He couldn’t believe she wanted to catalog his most embarrassing moment for her own twisted research purposes. What kind of self-respecting witch spends time with the wizard who bloody assaulted her without even demanding an apology. Unless this was a new way of torturing him. Draco’s mood soured even further.

“Notes are always necessary,” she responded practically. “Unlike what your girlfriend told Skeeter fourth year, I did not have the potion experience to brew either a love potion or the anecdote until this year,” Hermione said, her voice now bitter. 

“My girlfriend?” Draco asked after a confused beat. 

“Pansy?” Hermione was chewing on her lip again. 

Draco began to choke on his water. This witch really had no social life if she thought he was still dating Pansy. “Not my girlfriend,” he corrected before he paused. “For the record.”

“Er - noted,” Hermione said, now studying the blank parchment and avoiding his eyes. Draco detested this stifled silence, desperate to get this interview from hell over with. 

“I didn’t think you liked potions. It is the only class I’ve ever beat you in,” Draco said to her, watching to see her reaction. “Why bother with these notes?”

“Well isn't that exactly why I should be taking notes? Trying to improve?” Hermione looked back up at him, shooting him a defiant look. “Worried I’ll beat you in that too now?” As she spoke an owl dropped a letter in front of him, and two in front of Hermione. They both ignored them, eyes locked on the other. 

“Are you really so desperate that you’re asking for feedback on a kiss?” Draco sneered at her, hoping his rudeness would put her off this horrible conversation. “I can speed this little Q&A up - it was mediocre at best. If you weren’t so unappealing to the eye, perhaps I would sit through this interview for your sake. But given how you- Ouch!” An aching in his forearmcut him off. “Damn!” Draco yelped, glaring at Hermione for shooting a wordless stinging hex at him. 

“Serves you right. I spent my entire night helping you, you absolute arse!” Hermione yelled, drawing looks for the scattered students who had walked into the Great Hall since they’d started their conversation. “I came over here to apologize and help you figure out who did this to you! To us! I just thought this,” she gestured to the notes, “would be a good way to talk about it. I should have known that you would be so...so  _ you _ about it. Happy Christmas, you miserable ferret.” She shoved the parchment into her bag and stormed out of the room. Draco looked down at the table and rubbed his temples, irritated by her spectacle. 

“ _ Apologize? _ ” he wondered, after running through her tirade a second time mentally. “ _ What does she need to apologize for? _ ” Granger had helped him and hadn’t even hexed him when he’d kissed her, something she clearly wasn’t interested in. 

After a few minutes of quiet, he looked at the letter in front of him. Draco hoped it was from his mother, but saw Theo had already written him back. As he scanned the words, his stomach dropped. “Fuck.” He reread it a few more times before slamming it down on the table, angrily. “Fuck!” Draco looked at the place where she’d just sat, two letters now in that space, both addressed to her. “Fuck,” he sighed heavily. 

Hermione stormed back up to her dorm room, throwing her bag on the ground and falling into her bed. She huffed, livid that Malfoy had been so horrid. “Why am I even bothering?” Hermione asked the empty room in frustration. “He is just an absolute arse!” But as time stretched on and she thought about it more, she realized she was even more frustrated at herself for letting him get her so upset and that she walked away before even apologizing.

She sat up and grabbed the parchment she’d written her notes in. After a few minutes looking it over, she groaned. “I need answers,” she told herself with a heavy sigh. As she dropped the parchment back in the drawer, the Weasley box on her bedside table caught her eye. A smile broke out on Hermione’s face as it inspired an idea. Perhaps a bit of levity could help them get past the awkwardness and let them get to the bottom of this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapter today! Working to get this done before Christmas - I am excited to share more, especially Theo's letter.


	11. Male Delivery

“Would you just let me in?” Draco yelled at the infuriating portrait. “Look, she left her mail at the table,” he shouted louder, waving the letters around so she could see them. “I can just drop it off and go, you stupid bint.”

“Go away snake,” the fat lady sang from her seat, her nose turned up at him. He thanked Circe that the dungeons weren’t guarded by a daft portrait. “Leave my little lioness alone.”

“Do you really think I won’t rip your canvas from your frame?” Draco hissed, causing the fat lady to let out a yelp. Just as he started towards the portrait with his most threatening glare, the door was opening and he was staring into the chestnuts eyes of the witch he was looking for. 

“Dra- Malfoy?” Hermione cocked her head to the side, clearly surprised to see him. She tightened her grasp on a small package she was holding. 

“Granger,” Draco nodded at her. “I was hoping to talk with you,” he said, feeling unsure of himself. “Privately,” he added with urgency as he glared up at the portrait, who glared back down at him. 

“Oh. Come in,” Hermione waved him in, turning her body to the side. The smell of vanilla hit him when he walked by her, drying his mouth instantly. As Draco walked through the portrait, he was visually assaulted by an explosion of red and gold. “ _ Tacky, but not surprising, _ ” he thought as he surveyed the Gryffindor common room. He stopped in front of the fireplace and turned back towards her, unsure if he should take a seat. 

“I was actually on my way to see you,” Hermione said brightly, as though she hadn’t just hexed him in the Great Hall. She stayed standing, though Draco noted disappointedly that she was just a few steps out of reach. “ _ Not that that matters _ ,” he reminded himself, irritated at his subconscious for even noticing. 

“Oh really?” He asked dryly, through his heart did a flip at the warmth in her tone. 

“As much as you don’t want to talk about last night, I’d really like to get to the bottom of it. I got you something. As a peace offering,” she extended the small package towards him. 

“What is this?” Draco asked, eyeing it suspiciously and shifting his weight uncomfortably. It looked like something from the Weasleys’ shop, which he’d only had negative interactions with. 

“Open it.” Hermione shoved the package towards him again. He took it hesitantly. 

“A bag of...coal?” He asked, reading the bag and looking back at her in confusion. 

“It is a muggle candy. A joke really,” she explained. “I thought you deserved some coal after...well the last six years I guess,” Hermione shrugged as he turned the candy over in his hands.

“I deserve  _ coal _ ?” Draco knew he must be looking at her like she had three heads. She gave him a small confused smile in response. 

“Surely you know? Santa gives you presents if you are good and lumps of coal if you are bad,” Hermione trailed off, waiting for his recognition. He looked down towards the flickering fire for a moment, trying to remember any mention of this, before giving her an incredulous stare. 

“And what, pray tell, is Santa?”

“Oh, erm,” Hermione paused thoughtfully, looking back at the coal in his hands. “On Christmas, Santa visits the children of the world. He gives gifts for children who have been nice, and coal to those who have been naughty. Have you really not even heard of this? Ron knows who Santa is, so I just thought it was something magical children were also taught. Might be his father’s influence then. We never covered it in Muggle Studies and I hadn’t thought to do further research into the disparity in holiday traditions because so many overlap. I’ll have to do that this week.” Draco felt the corners of his mouth turn up as he watched her work through her thoughts. He fought and pushed them back down when she glanced back at him. He wouldn’t let Theo be right. 

“And you gave me...coal?” he asked, confused. “Because I’ve been...naughty?” Draco smirked as he drew out the last word, taking care to make his tone cheeky as he raked his eyes mischievously up and down her form. Hermione’s cheeks turned the same pink they had last night, which set the hair on the back of Draco’s neck straight up. 

“No. No, I gave you candy coal as a sign of good faith. Because I know you have a sweet tooth. A joke to clear the air, that’s all!” Hermione protested, growing pinker as she spoke. 

“Right. Thank you ever so,” Draco drawled, putting the candy into his robe pocket. He wondered how Hermione knew about his sweet tooth. The silence hung around the two as they stood awkwardly, looking at each other, unsure. 

“Could we talk about last night?” Hermione gestured to the couch next to them. “I’d like to figure out what happened. It really doesn’t make much sense.”

“Well, I came up here to give you the letters that came for you just as you left” Draco said as he handed her the letters he’d grabbed from the Great Hall. “But I could stay and talk,” Draco shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as he took a seat on the couch. In reality, Hermione’s interest in last night’s events put him on edge. Theo’s explanation, currently burning a hole in his robe pocket, was not something he wanted to share with Hermione, or anyone, ever. Even he was actively trying to block it from his mind.

“Thank you,” Hermione said primly as she took the letters and shrunk them to put them in her pocket. “I was thinki-”

“You may want to read them now,” Draco interrupted, pointing to the letters she shrunk. “Your boyfriend wrote you,” he added, ignoring how hard it was for him to call Potter her boyfriend. But he’d seen them in the Great Hall hugging goodbye as break started and her immediate letter to him the next day. He’d seen her get letters from the blasted owl at nearly every meal. 

“My...what?” Her voice squeaked and her brow furrowed. 

“Potter,” Draco said, looking into the fire across from them and working to keep up his mask of indifference. 

“We aren’t,” Hermione started, “We don’t. No. Not my boyfriend.” She shook her head and gave a small chuckle. “For the record,” she added, flashing him a smile. 

“Noted,” Draco returned the smile as he said it before he could stop himself. “That is a stunning endorsement of Scarhead, I’ll have to share it with him next time we chat.”

“Do you have any idea what happened last night?” Hermione asked, ignoring his dig at Potter. “I have a few theories, but I thought you could share your thoughts.”

“I drank some firewhiskey and then the next thing I remember was waking up on the floor at five this morning with a terrible headache. Nothing to figure out.” 

“You don’t remember anything else from last night?” Draco noted the concern in her voice with interest. Her dark brows pinched together as she studied him.

“No,” he lied, hoping she would pretend that the kiss never happened.

“Oh, we have to get you to the Hospital Wing right now,” she said, rising quickly. “Memory loss is serious, you’ll need medical attention immediately.” The petite girl held out her hand to him. He stared at it, ink-stained and nails chewed down, wondering if talking to her would be worse than rehashing the embarrassing experience with a faculty member. 

“Bloody Gryffindor,” he muttered, pushing her hand away gently. “Fine, fine, I remember,” he said as he gestured for her to sit back down. “It is just fuzzy. But I do remember you being kind, so thank you.” Hermione looked like she didn’t know what to say, so Draco filled the silence, knowing he should apologize for the kiss. “I know this is exactly how everyone wants to spend their holidays, of course. Brewing up antidotes for creeps and interviewing them afterwards.” That was the closest he knew he could get to an apology. 

“Creep? I never called you that!” her voice jumped an octave. He flinched at her response. 

“Well you definitely called me that last week on the bridge, when you accused me of following you,” he spat out the last two words, surprised at how embarrassed he still was about how that encounter kicked off. “Last night I bloody assaulted you and you’re still talking to me for scientific integrity.”

“You? You think  _ you _ assaulted  _ me _ ?” Hermione dragged out the last word, staring intently at him. Draco wanted to be anywhere but here. He wished for that quick death now or to melt into the floor. He’d never been a creep, not like this anyway. He’d never really had to pursue a woman. Girls tended to come to him, interested in his name or his fortune. He’d never been in a situation where any attention he gave wasn’t at minimum reciprocated. Pansy has been especially aggressive in her affection for him, that he’d barely had to lift a finger. 

“Obviously,” he sniffed. “I-”

“ _ I’m _ the one who took advantage of a drugged up prat,” she interrupted him, her voice shrill and scratchy, like she was about to cry. “  _ I’m _ the creep who kissed someone who couldn’t consent.”

This was not the response he was expecting. “But you -,” he started, shaking his head in confusion. They stared at each other in thick silence before Hermione’s shoulders began to move. Draco started panicking, completely unprepared to deal with a crying witch, one he was responsible for making cry. His mother would be beside herself at this. But when no tears came, he realized she had begun to giggle. Her giggles quickly grew to loud laughs and she began to wipe her eyes where moisture had just started to gather. 

“What about this is so amusing, witch?” Draco practically growled, kicking himself for getting back out of his bed. He could have stayed there for the rest of the break and never had this tedious interaction, never read Theo’s message. 

“I just was thinking about last night. You were so - you were,” Hermione broke off into giggles again. Draco flushed in embarrassment. “You were different. Nice,” Hermione said and smiled at him. He didn’t know how to react, but his confused face must have reminded her who she was talking to. “But it was the potion, some form of amorteria. So I know it wasn’t you.”

“Right, it would be ridiculous for me to be nice,” Draco fixed a grin on his face as she looked down. “It sounds like we both feel bad about last night. But I did mean it - thank you for helping me. I don’t know what would have happened if I had run into anyone else professing my love for them too.”

“Thank you for understanding. I’m sorry too.” They sat in silence before Hermione spoke again. “I spent most of my night trying to figure out who would do that to you and why, plus where I would fit in there. Let’s start by making a list of everyone we think might benefit from dosing you. I will share my list too.”

“Okay,” Draco nodded, wondering if he should just lie to her, telling her it was Theo’s prank gone wrong, that he had no idea why he reacted that way to her. It was plausible enough, but there was the potential this know-it-all would dig into it anyway. Before he could make himself speak, she looked back up and smiled. 

“Then maybe you could teach me more parlor games? That part of last night was surprisingly fun.”

“Deal,” he agreed readily. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he added internally as his stomach flipped when she smiled. “No kill, marry, snog tonight though.”

“Deal,” she said. “How will I ever live without knowing which teacher you’d kill?” Hermione said with a dramatic sigh before flashed him a conspiratorial grin. Draco masked his pounding anxiety with a tight smile in return, the accidental reminder of his mission engulfing him in the stress and fear he’d been able to push off since before he drank Theo’s gift. 

“We can’t all snog Snape,” Draco replied coldly, arching an eyebrow and making Hermione clap her hands over her flushed face. At that sight, he let out a bark of laughter, his worries fading quickly as he watched her. They laughed together as the fire in front of them roared.


	12. Christmas Day

“ _ Where am I? _ ” Draco thought to himself as he cracked his eyes open. His body was sore, sitting against the arm of a couch. A weight pinned him from his chest down. He glanced down to investigate and a nest of curls covered his chest. “ _ This is new _ .” He was cuddling a girl in a hideous room. He was cuddling Hermione Granger on the Gryffindor common room couch. For a moment Draco was sure he’d body swapped with Potter. But their morning slowly crept back to him, which he found was surprisingly nice. They’d spent a few hours discussing leads that he knew would go nowhere and playing games. He shifted slowly, debating staying still until she woke up or trying to leave without waking her, when Hermione let out a sigh and cuddled closer into him. Without thinking, he brought a hand up to her shoulder and squeezed her tighter to him. 

As soon as he did, Hermione sat up quickly, looking around, clearly confused about where she was. Her thin t-shirt was tugged aside, allowing Draco an eyeful of her clavicle, which he quickly revisited, thinking of their run-in at the prefect baths. As her eyes landed on him, a small noise of surprise escaped her. Draco considered commenting on it, but thought it better to forgo his usual snark.

“Hi Granger,” Draco whispered, his voice coming out hoarse from sleep. “Guess we fell asleep talking. What time is it?” Hermione performed a wordless tempus. 

“Two in the afternoon! Merlin, we’ve been asleep for hours,” she exclaimed, jumping up off the couch and further from him. While she smoothed her shirt and pants, Draco looked up at her hair, caramel curls wilder than ever. 

“Right, sorry I had shite sleep last night,” he said as he swung his legs over the couch. “The floor of the potions lab isn’t particularly comfortable.”

“You slept there?” Hermione asked quietly, looking guilty. When he nodded, she gave him an apologetic look. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. Too worried about...everything,” the witch looked down at her feet before glancing back up at him nervously. 

“I should probably go,” Draco said, stretching his arms wide above him to help with the crick that developed in his neck. “Don’t want to take up your entire Christmas.”

“Wait! Don’t you want to keep trying to figure out what happened to you?” Hermione asked, her disappointed look secretly thrilling him. Theo’s letter in his robe pocket came crashing into his mind as she spoke. “We crossed out most of our potential leads.”

“No, as convinced you were this morning that it was Pansy, I think we should just chalk it up to a Slytherin prank gone wrong,” Draco shrugged, hoping she’d let it go. He was usually a confident liar, but this swotty witch made it difficult. 

“Oh,” Hermione responded, her brows drawn in thought. “Well, I’d rather get to the bottom of it because it impacted me too. Maybe we can keep brainstorming? I could write Fred and George to see if any of the potions they are selling have the side effects you exhibited.” Draco thought for a moment, weighing his options. If he didn’t share what Theo had written, investigating this with her would only mean they’d spend time together. As much as Draco loathe to admit it, today was nearly as relaxing as spending last night with her under the potion had been. Perhaps Theo was a little right. He just had to keep her on the wrong track. 

“Why don’t we look up more information in the library first? Perhaps they will have information on the various forms a love potion could take. We could research together.” Draco cursed the way his heart fluttered as her entire face lit up at his suggestion. “It is just the library, Granger, not a Christmas present. Bloody swot,” he added harshly, sure to roll his eyes. Though he was enjoying her company, he couldn’t afford to let her get too close. It could jeopardize her, just like Pansy. Likely worse, given her blood status. But it would be far worse for his parents and for him. He knew what the Dark Lord would do if he uncovered the truth about Draco’s views of blood purity or his waning allegiance. 

“Wait, just give me a minute to put the letters back in my room,” Hermione said as she turned towards the stairs As she bounced up the stairs, Draco couldn’t help but stare. 

“ _ Has she always been this gorgeous? Fuck, I am in trouble. _ ”

Hermione buzzed around the room, putting her shrunken letters into her bedside table for later and smoothing her hair and clothing before returning downstairs. Taking a mental inventory, she felt confident about her progress on the first two steps of her plan. They’d easily crossed Pansy and her friends off the list of suspects. Hermione knew they had more work to do, and she suspected Draco was holding back as his potential suspects didn’t make much sense. Once they figured out who did this, she hypothesized he might feel comfortable sharing his bigger secret with her.

Hermione quietly hummed Jingle Bells as she walked back down, looking forward to the rest of her Christmas Day. She was in an especially cheery mood; Draco didn’t know that his suggestion that they both go to the library was more like a Christmas present than anything else. Typically, when she, Ron, and Harry ran into a problem, she was the only one willing to do the research. She was pleasantly surprised when Draco pulled out his own selection of tomes and began researching separately from her, all done without snark. The pair silently studied together for hours until Hermione’s stomach released a loud growl. 

“Shall we head to dinner?” Draco asked, a smug smile on his face. She could feel the heat in her face, but ignored it, nodding at him with a smile. “Did you find anything useful?” Draco asked as he stacked his books neatly and sent them to the proper shelves with his wand. 

“Not yet. But I have ruled out a few things. Honestly, I think we’d go faster if we revisited leads, given how many variables could impact a potion.” At that suggestion, Draco rolled his jaw and gave a sharp nod. 

“Perhaps you’re right. I have some theories on that.” As they walked to the Great Hall and during dinner, Draco started postulating outlandish theories about who snuck him the potion. Eventually, Hermione joined in. Draco shot down her suggestion that Moaning Myrtle bribed a living student to slip him potion so she’d have some new entertainment and Hermione was offended by his suggestion that Snape was behind it, eager to increase competition between them and cause issues for Slughorn in class. By the end of the meal, they could barely talk because they were laughing so hard, drawing curious and concerned looks from the few remaining students and faculty alike. 

“Should we go back up to the library?” Hermione asked as the meal wound down. She held her breath as Draco shifted in his seat, wondering if now he’d say goodnight and leave her for the rest of Christmas. She’d been so thrilled at his distracting presence, she hadn’t felt the loneliness that plagued her this morning. A gnawing anxiety rose in her stomach in the silence. 

“Actually, I thought you may want some hands-on research. Would you like to see the Slytherin common room?” Draco asked, raising his eyebrows at her. With a quick nod, Hermione followed Draco closely to the dungeons, surprised that she felt a bit nervous. She’d heard a bit about the Slytherin common room from Harry and Ron during her disastrous Polyjuice experiment, but wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. Draco stopped abruptly in front of her, nearly causing her to run into his back. He grimaced at her before turning to a blank wall, whispering a latin phrase into the stones. 

“Pure of blood, really?” Hermione scoffed, her hands on her hips. 

“I didn’t choose it!” Draco protested over his shoulder as he walked through the door that appeared. When she didn’t follow him, he sighed and turned around. “I know, but the inside will be worth the trouble,” he said, extending his hand. Hermione hesitantly took it and let him pull her through. The room they entered looked nothing like the Gryffindor common room. Where the tower was comfortable and warm, the dungeon was grand and cold. Black, green, and leather covered nearly every surface, save for the giant windows that showed the Great Lake. 

“Wow,” Hermione breathed, looking excitedly at the windows. “The view into the Great Lake is beautiful. This is so different from the Tower.”

“You mispronounced better in every way. Let me grab the flask in question,” he said as he spun away and walked up the stairs. Her gaze lingered on his broad back and floated down to his bum as he walked away. After he disappeared from view, she found herself wondering what his dorm room looked like. Blushing at the train of thought, Hermione looked back at the dark lake, charmed to be illuminated right by the windows for students to get a better view. She stepped closer, following the path of a school of small glowing fish. 

“See something you like?” he whispered into her ear a few minutes later, his presence startling her for the second time in a day. His hot breath into the shell of her ear caused a shiver to run down her spine, reminding her of their kiss from the previous evening. “Jumpy little witch aren’t you? Just not surprising that you’re so enamored with the view, especially compared to the tacky mess you’re used to,” Draco smirked at her as she turned around. She glared in response before wordlessly holding out her hand for the flask. “Ah, right to it. No foreplay with the swot, right to business,” the blond drawled as he gingerly placed the flask into her hand. 

She eagerly began to flip it over, studying it and avoiding his eye, hopeful that he couldn’t see her blush at his mention of foreplay. Hermione outlined the moving snake, impressed by the magic. She sniffed the near empty contents, the familiar smell of parchment, grass, and spice weakly lingering from the final drops left in the flask. As she smelled the last scent, she realized she finally recognized the spice, which had puzzled her since she first smelled it in class. Draco’s cologne was the same smell. Hermione nearly dropped the flask, fumbling with it under Draco’s amused gaze. 

“Definitely a form of amortentia,” Hermione said, forcing her tone to be even. “Do you have parchment?” Draco gave her a curious look, but at her expectant silence he sighed and retreated up the stairs. When Draco returned with a sheet of parchment, she tipped the flask over and watched the drops stain the paper he held between them. Rather than the mother of pearl sheen they were familiar with, these drops had a slightly blue tint to them. Both their heads shot up, looking at the other in surprise. 

“I thought it would be empty,” Draco said quietly, looking concerned. When Hermione caught his eye his face quickly became indifferent. “I’ve never heard of a blue love potion,” Draco said at his normal volume, though he still sounded nervous. Hermione empathized, knowing she’d be anxious about being dosed by any mystery potion. 

“There are a few different ingredients that could give it a blue color, like eagle owl feather, foxglove, fairy wings. Could even be something like cobalt,” Hermione said excitedly, thankful they could at least start making some progress on what the actual potion was. “You’re the supposed potions expert, anything else?”

“Countless other things, Granger. Do I look like an ingredients index?” Draco scoffed at her. “I brought some of the books from the library back with me,” Draco replied, grabbing shrunken books from his pocket and enlarging them with the flick of his wand. He handed her one before settling into the window seat looking into the lake and cracking open his own. “No reason to sleep on the job. You’re the supposed brightest witch of our year, let’s crack on,” Draco ordered hastily as he gestured to the other corner of the window seat. 

Hermione curled up there and opened her own book. She looked over the top of it to see Draco focused, his gray eyes flitting back and forth across the page. “ _ He looks rather handsome when he is studious, _ ” she thought as she chewed her bottom lip. This time no internal chastising came, nor feelings of disgust or regret at the thought process. “ _ Merlin, I like Draco Malfoy _ ,” Hermione felt herself stiffen at the realization. Her movement caught Draco’s attention and when he looked up at her, she forcefully dropped her head into the book and forced herself to read and deal with this development after they figured out what he’d been given. 

A few hours later the pair sat across from each other on the window seat, legs outstretched, though carefully not touching each other.“So muggle parents lie to their children that a fat man annually trespasses into their home and passes judgement on their behavior?” Draco asked with a grimace. 

“Well, when you put it that way it does not sound especially joyful or comforting,” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest in mock indignation. 

“So this Santa fellow - tell me more about him. Is he British?” Draco propped his head up on his head, drawing his legs back into a crossed position. Hermione immediately missed the body warmth that had been next to her, his leg ghosting her’s. She wondered how it was possible for someone to look so haughty in such a casual position. 

“Well he lives in the North Pole,” Hermione said, leveling him with a smile, “but he visits all the children in the world on Christmas Eve.”

“Well that would take magic. Could he be a wizard?” Draco asked, his cold indifference slipping into that childlike excitement that Hermione had seen on Christmas Eve.

“He may very well be,” she laughed at the thought, picturing Dumbledore in a Santa costume. 

“I bet he’d have to use a time turner,” Draco mused, looking into the illuminated waters in the window next to them. “If he truly makes it to each house in a single night.” Hermione considered this thoughtfully and nodded, wondering what Draco would think of her own time turner experience. He cleared his throat, startling Hermione out of her thoughts. “This was a much better Christmas than I expected. I thought being here would be terrible. At least the last time we had the Yule Ball.”

“This is better than that too,” Hermione replied airily, before realizing what she’d said. When she looked at him, two steel eyes were observing her closely. “I just mean, there was a lot of pressure that night. And I got into a fight with Ron.”

“Well that part is similar,” Draco said nonchalantly, causing Hermione to look at him questioningly. “Oh come on, you two are obviously fighting. I’d wager Brown has something to do with that.” At her silence, he added, “What can I say? I’m an observant wizard. But I’m surprised you didn’t have fun at the Yule Ball. You were the talk of the school that night. No one could stop talking about how beautiful you looked.” Draco studied her intently as he spoke, causing Hermione’s breathing to hitch. 

“And you?” Hermione whispered slowly, holding his eye contact and hoping she wasn’t embarrassing herself. 

“No one ever stops talking about how beautiful I look,” Draco said with a smirk. At her flush, she watched his grin grow wider and wolfish like it had been in the potions lab. “Really now, Granger? Fishing for compliments? That is far beneath you. Didn’t get enough of me gushing about you last night?” Hermione looked out the window, unsure how to respond. After a few moments, she turned back to him ready to say goodnight and flee the scene when he offered her his hand. “We never got to dance that night. Would you do me the honor?”

“What, here? There is no music,” Hermione gestured to the empty, silent common room. 

“Are you embarrassed because I’ve seen how poorly you dance?” She glared at him. “Or is the lion afraid of the snake?” Draco taunted with a smile, holding his hand out again as he stood. She slipped her petite hand into his and he pulled her up, drawing her close. She found herself surprised at how rough his hands were, given how well they were taken care of compared to most boys their age. She suspected they were calloused from quidditch. He wrapped his other hand around her waist and pulled her even closer in his firm grasp. She hesitantly placed her hand on his shoulder, prompting Draco to lead her into a graceful waltz. 

“Granger, why are you here?” Draco asked as he swept her around the leather couches. 

“I believe I was invited down here,” Hermione challenged him with a lopsided grin. “I didn’t fit the password after all,” she muttered, looking away from him and following the slow rise and fall of their dance. 

“No, I mean at Hogwarts,” Draco said as he spun her around. “For the holiday. I assumed you’d be home with your parents.”

“My parents are on a business trip,” she lied, ignoring the pang she felt in her chest when she thought of her parents. “And you?”

“Mine too,” Draco said, though he looked as miserable as she felt. His face clouded over, reminding her of how he looked when he mentioned how dangerous it would be for him to tell her his secrets. She wondered if now would be a good time to ask him about his parents, suspecting they were tied into whatever he was hiding. Feeling brave, Hermione drew her arm further around his broad back and shifted closer into him. He responded in kind, tightening his hold on her waist. She heard him suck in a breath as she rested her head on his chest. The room was suddenly an inferno.

“Hermione,” Draco’s deep voice rumbled against her ear in his chest. At the use of her first name she looked up at him towering over her. His gaze was intense and dark as it flickered between her eyes and her lips. Just as he tilted his head down further, the noise of laughing students filled the air. The two of them jumped away from each other quickly, though Hermione mourned the loss of contact and the rude interruption of the moment. 

“It’s getting late,” Hermione said quietly looking away from the Slytherins glaring at her and watching Draco with confused expressions. “I should probably get back up to my dorm.” 

“Of course, let me walk you back up,” Draco offered, ignoring the younger students. 

“Oh, no need. I appreciate it though,” she said as she grabbed the book from her side of the window seat and handed it to him. 

“Thanks for today,” Draco mumbled as he took it. 

“Of course,” Hermione replied. “Maybe tomorrow we could go to the library again. I bet the restricted section has something on variations of love potions. Blue is a big hint,” she said before turning and walking towards the door. “Happy Christmas, Draco,” she added as she paused in the doorway to look back at him. The tall boy looked especially pale in the green hue from the lake. 

“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” he nodded goodbye as he ran his hand through his hair. 

As Hermione entered her room, she let out a shocked laugh. Today was certainly her strangest Christmas ever. But perhaps not her worst, as she’d feared it be. She replayed the moment just before they were interrupted over and over while she got ready for sleep. As she got into bed Hermione remembered Harry and Ginny’s letters. She grabbed them from the nightstand drawer, eager to read them and hear about her friends’ holidays. As she plucked Harry’s first, a loose piece of folded parchment fell. Hermione picked it up and started reading, not able to to stop herself when she realized it wasn’t meant for her. 

_ Draco, _

_ I know you’re mad, but let me explain. The firewhiskey had a special brew in it - the inventor of the potion calls it Loving Loose Lips. It compels the drinker to relax enough to tell the truth to the person who’s hair is in the brew, but doesn’t require them to share anything they aren’t willing to. The amoteria ingredients amplify any existing feelings past any reservations the drinker may have. Apparently it is usually used on men hesitant to commit. Notice my lack of comment there. Don’t blame me for anything you said to her, that was all you. We both know why - at least I have known for a while. Face it, you need help with you know what and she might be able to do something. I think someday you’ll thank me for this. Or at least, you won’t try to murder me in my sleep.  _

_ Your brother who very much values his life,  _

_ Theo _

Hermione reread the letter three times. A flood of memories of their previous evening overtook her. Compliments, his commentary on blood purity, wanting to snog her. “He...likes me? Draco Malfoy likes me,” Hermione said to her empty dorm room, unable to believe it. But that meant something else was true too - Draco Malfoy had a dangerous secret, one that had his best friend concerned. And Hermione intended to help him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Day! But we aren't done yet. What did you think of the letter?


	13. The Week Between Christmas and New Years

“Good morning,” Hermione cheerily greeted the blond quietly eating alone at the Slytherin table. She climbed into the seat next to him and smiled warmly at him. As his eyes landed on her, she took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve to not immediately confront him about the letter. 

“Granger,” Draco replied with a nod, watching her suspiciously. “What are you so happy about?” 

“Just slept well. Do you have plans today?” Hermione asked, looking at him expectantly. 

“No,” Draco said, still wary. “We discussed going to the library. And I have a project I am meant to be working on, but I don’t particularly want to do that today,” he added, sounding bored. 

“Why don’t we research in Gryffindor Tower?” Hermione suggested. At his confused look she shrugged and said as nonchalantly as possible, “It is just a tad more comfortable. And we can discuss any findings at the volume we choose, since no one is there.”

As they began walking toward the library to check out more books, Hermione watched him from the corner of her eye. Had she not read the letter, Hermione wouldn’t have had an inkling that Draco felt anything for her. His face was cold, set in apathy, and he stared straight ahead as they strolled. Hermione caught his eye and gave him a smile, fighting the internal disappointment that she had to tackle the next step in her plan before diving into the letter: figure out about the trouble he is in. She was worried if she dove into his potential feelings too soon, she’d agitate him or scare him off. Instead, she would stick with her original plan. “So last night you mentioned your parents were on a business trip. What do they do?”

“What do you mean?” Draco suddenly looked defensive, stopping immediately in the middle of the hallway. 

“I thought your father was still in prison and your mother didn’t work. I know your father was on the board for Hogwarts, but outside of that I have no idea what he does.” Draco gawked at her like a deer in the headlights for just a moment before schooling his face into the sneer she hadn’t missed. 

“Yes, I do recall mentioning that,” Draco said slowly before taking a long pause. “My father is no longer in prison.”

“I didn’t realize he was released,” Hermione forced herself to sound calm, as though she was commenting on the weather rather than a maniac who tried to kill her and her friends a few months ago. “You must be thrilled.”

“He wasn’t,” Draco replied simply, letting the sentence hang there. The silence stretched between them as Hermione processed what Draco said. His father had either escaped prison or, more likely, been broken out by fellow Death Eaters. She watched his face contort as though he were in pain as she stood there, soundlessly analyzing. After a few moments, he let out a heavy sigh. “Granger, why don’t we raincheck on the research? As curious as I am, I realize I shouldn’t shirk my responsibilities with my project.”

“What is this mystery project?” Hermione asked, hoping this route would offer an opening instead. 

“I’m doing an independent study with Snape,” Draco said coldly, setting his jaw as he glared at her. “He wanted me to be better prepared against the Dark Arts.”

“An independent study…” Hermione trailed off, unspoken questions whirling around her. As she looked at the boy across from her, she decided on a simple one, a final chance to save the day and continue with her plan. “So, no time for our investigation?” Hermione tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. 

“Not today,” Draco said, shaking his head once. “Perhaps we can pick it up tomorrow. I’ll see you at dinner.” Draco turned on his heel and stalked down the hallway, quickly rounding a corner. 

When he ducked out of sight, Hermione cast a silencing spell on her shoes and hurried to catch him. As she quietly followed him to the corridor on the seventh floor, she saw his flash of platinum hair disappear behind a closing door. She sat down, prepared to keep watch, and pulled out a parchment and self inking quill to organize her thoughts and jot down her best hypotheses for what Draco was doing in the Room of Requirement. Flashes of Lucius flew through her mind as she constructed the worst possible scenarios of the problem Theo mentioned. Hermione desperately hoped Draco wasn’t already a Death Eater, but took comfort in the fact that even if he was branded, his confession about blood status under the potion meant he didn’t agree with their ideals. She sat there for hours, waiting through dinner for him to exit. When he didn’t come back out by 7PM, Hermione dejectedly returned to the Tower. She’d have to continue to look for clues tomorrow. 

“Good morning!” A now familiar voice sounded out behind him as he pushed around his eggs. Draco felt a tension he didn’t know he was holding drop from his shoulders at the sound of her voice. He was still irritated at her nosiness from yesterday, but thankful she still wanted to talk to him after his quick exit yesterday.

“Good morning, Granger,” Draco turned to look at her. She was wrapped in the pink monstrosity of a cloak. “Off on an adventure?”

“No, I went for a morning walk. It helps me think. I was planning to hit the library today, if you’d like to join me.” Draco’s mouth dried as he remembered the only reason she would even be bothering to talk to him. 

“I suppose we should keep looking for answers about the mystery potion,” Draco said, pushing down the shame he felt at being so pathetic to have to lie to spend time with Hermione. 

“Right,” she replied after a beat, her chestnut eyes watching him carefully. “I didn’t make much progress solo yesterday.” He nodded in response, wondering how much time he had before the prying witch would be able to work it out through her research. “You didn’t think of any other suspects did you?”

“No,” Draco shook his head. “Shall we go now? Unless you’d actually like something to eat?” Draco found Hermione’s erratic breakfast habits strange, given how organized she was in other aspects of her life. She was just as likely to skip it as she was to have a full English. 

“Let’s go.” As they walked through the empty corridors, he felt Hermione’s eyes on him. “You know, we didn’t discuss your friends as possible suspects,” Hermione said in a scholarly tone, as though she was making an observation about a potion. Draco started feeling nauseous as she unconsciously inched closer to the truth. “Like Blaise Zabini and….who is that other fellow you spend time with? The skinny one.” Draco stared forward, keeping his breathing even. When he didn’t respond she continued. “You know, the bookish one, sort of handsome.”

“You think Theo is handsome?” Draco blurted out, whipping his head to turn towards her. Envy bubbled up in his chest, the speed of the immediate irritation surprising him. 

“Theo, that’s his name. You don’t think maybe Blaise or Theo did this? Maybe to make you feel foolish by mooning over the mudblood.” Even Hermione’s sweet voice couldn’t cover the bitterness of that slur. Draco could feel his features harden at the word.

“Don’t say that,” Draco hissed at her, stopping in front of her. He looked down at the petite witch, who looked surprised at his abrupt reaction. “I already told you, don’t ever say that word.”

“You mean on Christmas Eve? So, you’d say you were telling the truth the other night?”

“No, I was out of my mind, you know that,” Draco scoffed, now alarmed at the direction the conversation was turning. “Love potion makes you act crazy. I didn’t mean any of it. Aren’t you meant to be smart?”

“Right,” Hermione said, both her face and tone blank and unyielding. “Because you could never be with someone like me.”

“Because I could never be with someone like you,” Draco repeated hollowly, feeling ill at her implication. 

“I don’t believe you.” Draco’s stomach sank, knowing what he’d have to do. At the same time an anger rose in his chest, with the question demanding why she was making him do this pulsing within him before dying in his throat. Before he could speak, she took a step closer and assertively said, “I think you could. I think you want that and you don’t know how to handle it.” She quickly pressed her lips to his, so softly he wasn’t sure if he was stuck in another daydream featuring her. He felt an overwhelming temptation to stay there, to kiss her back, to walk her into the stone wall behind them and explore every inch of her body. But the threat of the Dark Lord, an ever present entity lurking in his subconscious, proved stronger. 

“Merlin, Granger, I knew you were lonely, but must you be so desperate?” Draco said coldly, pushing her forcefully off of him. The face she made, like he’d physically struck her, made bile rise in his throat. “I’d never want to be with you,” he added for good measure. Mentally preparing for a slap, he was surprised when her hands went to her pockets instead. 

“I don’t know why you’re acting so horrid, but you’re missing this,” she yelled as she shoved a piece of parchment to his chest and turned on her heel to storm away. Draco fumbled the paper and opened it. As soon as he was his name in Theo’s handwriting, his stomach dropped. He tried to think about what he did with the letter, when it could have fallen out. He realized that he had been so distracted on Christmas Day that he’d hung his robes back up without even checking the pockets. Draco considered letting her go and letting himself die of embarrassment, but knew eventually she’d calm down and start digging even further. That was a risk neither of them could take. 

“Granger, wait,” Draco called, following her. She quickened her pace, but his long legs outmatched her. Draco grabbed her by the wrist and whirled her around until they were face to face. 

“What, more rude comments?” Hermione spat at him, the angry and distrusting expression he was so familiar with looking back at him. Here stood the Hermione Granger he was used to; the hothead who hated him. “Or did you -”

“Hermione,” Draco said urgently, cutting her off. “You need to forget that you saw this. We can’t - I can’t have anyone close to me. Do you understand?”

“Does this have to do with the problem Theo mentioned?” Hermione asked softly, the edge from her voice gone. Draco took a moment to think through his options, deciding a limited truth was likely his best bet to shake her off. 

“Yes. But I can’t say anything more, it is quite literally a matter of life or death.”

“Theo thought I could help,” Hermione offered, clearly ready for an argument. “Why not let me try?”

“You can’t. No one can. And I cannot stress this enough: you must leave it alone.” The girl stared at him for an uncomfortably long time, the gears in her head clearly turning at a breakneck speed.

“If you knew what happened all along, why pretend as though you had no idea?”

“You read the bloody letter,” Draco said, mentally cursing himself as his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and looked at his feet. “You know why.”

“But you just said it was dangerous for you to be...involved with anyone. So logically, wouldn’t you lie and stop looking?” Draco groaned in response. 

“Would you really have been satisfied with a lie and left it alone?” Draco challenged, cocking his head at her. Hermione had the self-awareness to look embarrassed. “I just - I couldn’t help myself,” he continued, softer now. “Spending time with you is nearly the same feeling I had under that Godric-damned potion. It’s addictive. It’s like I’m not looking down the end of a wand, waiting for death for the first time in months. And no one is around, I thought just spending time with you would be harmless enough,” he forced out, sure that this was the closest he’d ever felt to the Cruciatus curse. At his confession, Hermione looked stunned. He was certain she’d run, go back to ignoring him, hating him. The idea of that both comforted and crushed him. Instead, her hand reaching out to his arm broke his thoughts. 

“No one is around now,” Hermione said plainly after releasing her bottom lip from between her teeth. 

At that, even the Dark Lord wasn’t enough of a deterrent. Draco took a step towards her, welcoming the scent of vanilla like an old friend that he’d missed. As their lips connected again, he felt her hands grab fistfuls of his shirt. The room became dizzyingly hot, her mouth opening and inviting him in. His heartbeat thudded in his ears when Hermione’s chest pushed against his. Draco tugged her closer, reveling in this singular moment that he knew he couldn’t relive again. One thought rang out and repeated itself over and over: “ _ This was so much better than Christmas Eve _ .” Draco was present and in complete control of his actions, his senses alert rather than dulled by the potion. He pulled back, resting his forehead to her’s, and cupping her jaw with one hand. The pair looked at each other, wearing matching serious expressions. 

“I can promise not to push things, if you can promise to live in the moment while no one is around,” Hermione whispered. “We have a week left of break. Let’s enjoy it.” Draco was shocked by the suggestion, which sounded utterly unGranger-like. But he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to continue this. He answered her by leaning back down and melting into her mouth again. 

“Good morning!” Hermione greeted him at the Great Hall the next day. Hermione had woken up early and rehearsed what she would say over breakfast. Though she had lied about leaving his problem alone, Hermione had created a three-pronged approach to help him as to be more subtle about it. First, she’d gain his trust. Second, she’d continue to watch him and look for clues. Third, she’d slowly start asking more questions. She’d planned a list of questions to build trust, grabbed directly from the psychology textbook she’d picked up over the summer. Just as she opened her mouth to ask her first carefully selected question, Draco interrupted her. 

“You’re late,” he said, grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her from the table. 

“What are you doing?” Hermione demanded, looking back at the retreating empty Great Hall and her deteriorating plan. “What am I late for?”

“Put this on,” Draco instructed as he handed her a cloak. “Better than that horrid pink thing you had on yesterday, probably much warmer too.”

“Why? Because it is not mugglemade?” Hermione asked shrilly. 

“It is charmed to warm you, so yes,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. Hermione scrunched up her face in response, but said nothing and wrapped the cloak around her.

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked, more impatiently now. 

“Right here,” he stopped and reached out a stone column in the courtyard, producing his broom. 

“Oh no, that is  _ not _ happening,” Hermione shook her head and started back to the castle. 

“Come on now, Granger. I know you mentioned your fear of flying, but let me show you my favorite thing to do. We can stay low to the ground and go slow.”

After 10 minutes of negotiating, Hermione reluctantly found herself seated on Draco’s broom, clinging to him for dear life. He started slow, flying them towards the lake. Hermione took deep breaths to calm down, Draco’s spice cologne enveloping her. She could feel Draco shaking with laughter when she yelped and tightened her grasp around his waist as he sped up. When he started to drift a few feet higher, Hermione tapped him incessantly on the shoulder until he dropped back down to a reasonable height. 

“So, did I make a flier out of you?” Draco asked as she hopped off only 15 minutes after she’d gotten on. He reluctantly landed, looking put out to be on the ground again. 

“Certainly not,” Hermione huffed. “But I promise to enjoy watching you fly, with my two feet planted on the ground. You’re rather graceful.”

“Been watching me then, Granger? I know the best seeker is hard to ignore,” Draco said, winking cheekily. “Fancy a game of Wizard’s chess?” Draco asked before she could defend Harry. Hermione smiled and nodded enthusiastically, confident in her skills after years of playing with Ron. The pair walked up to the abandoned Tower, Hermione relishing the feeling of his hand encasing her’s. 

“Good morning!” Hermione called the following day, sitting down next to him. He nodded sleepily as he took a bite out of his green apple. He’d only been able to drag himself away from their conversation at 2AM last night, tiredly stumbling down to the dungeons. 

“Morning, witch,” he said after he munched, wiping the juices at the corners of his mouth quickly. “Another adventure planned for the day? Any other games you’d like to hustle me at?” 

“No use sulking. You should play with Ron if you want to get better,” Hermione sing-songed. Draco sneered at the idea of playing the Weasel at Wizard’s chess. “I do have something planned, and thankfully we don’t have to go into this snow storm.” When he stood up, curious about her plan, Hermione intertwined their hands and led him to an empty hallway on the fourth floor. She stopped, looking around before she positioned him in front of a tapestry. 

“Are we critiquing the castle’s art today? Because this is hideous,” Draco said as he quirked an eyebrow at her. She walked around and faced him, stepping up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. As he leaned down, she took a quick step back, disappearing behind the tapestry. “Clever witch!” Draco exclaimed as he stepped through to see her laughing. “How did you find this?”

“That I can’t tell,” Hermione smiled, thinking of the map. “But I did have an idea of what we could do today,” she whispered huskily before launching herself at him. He staggered back at the shift in weight before adjusting the two of them and kissing her hungrily. They snogged until their lips were red and chapped. “We are going to have to send Theo a thank you note,” Hermione laughed as they broke apart, both breathing heavily. Draco sighed, letting his eyes drift upward. 

“No, don’t do that,” Draco scolded. “I need to murder him first,” he smirked before pulling her back in for another kiss, hoping they’d spend the rest of the day doing only this. 

“Good morning!” Hermione said the next morning as he walked into the Great Hall, capturing his attention back from the particularly dirty daydream he was having about her. It was an indulgence he started to allow on Christmas Day and he couldn’t get enough, especially as their snogging progressed. “Breakfast to go this morning, you’re coming for a walk with me,” she added before he could reply, grabbing a green apple and tossing it at him. He slowly turned to follow her, wondering if there would be any kissing on their walk. 

The pair walked quietly out the courtyard towards the lake. Once they were out of sight of the castle and alone, Hermione slipped her hand into his and squeezed. With each step through the snow, Draco counted his gratitudes. A week ago he never would have imagined his luck. Suddenly Hermione stopped and broke away, bending down. Assuming she was adjusting her boot, he too stopped and turned around to wait for her. Instead he was met with a face full of snow. He heard Hermione laughing, taking a few steps back. “Oh really now?” Draco asked, wiping his face. He wandlessly threw a snowball at her. 

“Draco!” Hermione screeched as the snowball hit her shoulder. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Granger,” Draco said haughtily as he threw another at her. “Especially with a Slytherin.” Hermione dodged the snowball, bending down to pick up some snow and began running towards him. “This is not how a snowball fight works, Granger! Do muggles not do this?” He yelled over his shoulder as he started to run away. After a few yards he turned around to stop her, and she barreled into him. The pair fell back into the snow, ice immediately falling down his cloak and on to his neck. He quickly reached to the side, scooped some up, and returned the favor by pouring some snow down Hermione’s pink jacket. Draco quickly captured her scream with his lips and the pair kissed in the snow until it became too cold to stay there. 

“Merlin, I’m freezing,” Draco complained as he performed a drying spell on Hermione first, then himself. 

“Thank you,” Hermione said between shivers. “Read by the fire to warm up?” 

An hour later the two sat in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, Draco reading  _ Potions Quarterly _ and Hermione devouring her favorite Agatha Christie novel. 

“I wish we had hot chocolate,” Hermione remarked without glancing up from her book, breaking the silence. Draco looked at her like she was speaking another language. 

“Just call for a house elf,” Draco suggested as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Absolutely not,” Hermione scoffed. 

“The elves are afraid of you, aren’t they?” Draco raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that why?”

“No. I just don’t like to utilize slavery,” Hermione said as she glared at him. 

“Merlin, Granger. How do you know so much and yet understand so little?” Hermione opened her mouth to argue and Draco held up a hand. “Mizzy!” With a crack of apparition a small elf appeared. At the sight of Hermione, her wide eyes got even wider. “See? Scared,” Draco smirked at Hermione, who huffed in response. Even now, he enjoyed being able to work her up like this. “Hello Mizzy. Would you please retrieve two cups of hot chocolate for Miss Granger and me?”

“Yous is wanting it the usual way?” The elf asked softly. Draco nodded and the elf cracked away. 

“Well that was better than I expected,” Hermione said impassively. 

“Meaning what? You thought they’d run when they saw you?” Draco laughed, but cut himself off when he realized Hermione hadn’t joined him. Instead, her lips were pursed and she looked angry. 

“I’m friends with Dobby,” Hermione said evenly. Draco’s chest suddenly felt heavy at the last memory he had of the small elf. The Easter break before he’d been freed, his father had kicked him down the stairs as Draco watched from the bottom. With each step, Draco had winced, feeling poorly for the elf that crumpled at his feet. 

“Dobby was my father’s personal elf. He had a very different relationship with him than I do with elves,” Draco started before the apparition crack cut him off. Mizzy appeared, silently handing Draco the two mugs while cautiously watching Hermione. As the elf disapperated, Draco let loose a chuckle. “Still scared.”

“This is the usual way?” Hermione asked, observing the heaping mountain of whipped cream with a candy cane peeking out the side.

“Yes,” Draco smiled wistfully. “My house elf, Tippy, would make this for me when I was a boy. Some of my favorite childhood memories were sitting in the kitchen, drinking this and talking with her after coming in from flying. When I was homesick the first year, I wrote home to get the recipe and gave it to the house elves here. They’ve made it for me this way ever since.”

“You were homesick in our first year?” Hermione struggled to imagine the overly confident, smug boy she knew ever being homesick. 

“Are you joking? Of course. I was constantly homesick. Theo and I had a bit of a rough adjustment, so we did not spend much time together. Potter didn’t give me a chance, embarrassed me immediately. The first few months were hell.”

Hermione gave him an understanding smile, thinking of how difficult her first two months were. “I can understand that. Thank you for sharing this with me,” she said as she held up her mug as if to cheers him before taking a big sip. They settled back into their silent reading, sipping hot chocolate in front of the fire. 

Several hours later, Hermione woke with a start, looking around confused for a moment about where she was. After a few moments, she realized she and Draco must have fallen asleep on the Gryffindor common room couch. The morning light streamed in and the couch next to her was cold, so she wondered if he went back to the dungeon in the night or went ahead early for breakfast. Hermione hummed to herself as she got ready, feeling ridiculously happy and wonderfully not alone for the first time since she sent her parents away. But today it was time for her to take the next step in her plan. She was confident that with the trust they’d started to build this week, she could convince him to tell her what he was hiding in the Room of Requirement. With only a handful of days left, she had to make the plan work. Otherwise, she knew he’d retreat from her, returning to the Malfoy she knew, and put himself into whatever danger he was facing. Plus, she wasn’t ready for this past week to fade into a memory. As she walked into the Great Hall, eager for whatever the day had in store for them, her eyes stopped on an empty Slytherin table. “ _ Where is Draco? _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A week of Dramione moments - but now for some action


	14. New Year's Eve - A New Slate

Draco had woken up early, carefully slipping out from under Granger’s sleeping form and sneaking out to get Hermione breakfast before his surprise for today. He hummed happily as he sat down in the Great Hall, piling things that appeared at the table onto a plate for her. Draco couldn’t believe that it was possible to feel as unencumbered as when he drank that potion just over a week ago. Yet, this week had been the best one he’d had in years. Consciously he knew his time with Hermione couldn’t last, so he was adamant to make their final few days the best possible. Since it was New Years Eve, he planned to show her the best places in the castle and on the grounds. Then, they’d watch the fireworks together in the quidditch stands before starting the new year with a midnight kiss. Just as he’d finished compiling the plate, an owl dropped a letter off in front of him. 

His humming abruptly cut off when he saw the handwriting on the letter. “ _ Mother _ ,” Draco muttered aloud, dropping the plate with a loud clatter and snatching the letter. He tore it open to read, thankful to finally hear from her. 

_ My dearest Draco,  _

_ All is well. I hope you had a good Christmas. My trip was lovely, though I missed you desperately. I hope your New Years is going well.  _

_ With love, _

_ Mother _

Draco sighed, wishing this was actually all she had to say. But magic hummed under his fingers, the true letter warded by blood magic. He stood quickly and ran to the nearest lavatory, locking the door with the flick of his wand. He pricked his finger with a spell and let his blood drop onto the letter. The words scattered and disappeared to show another message, written in a shakier hand. 

_ My dearest Draco,  _

_   
_ _ Your father and I are well, but are both worried about you. We will be hosting a guest when we return from this trip. Your actions concerning your assignment will dictate how the stay goes. Please do not delay - all I want is for you to be safe. Talk to Snape if you need help, he can be trusted. Be careful.  _

_ With love, _

_ Mother  _

Draco read the message again before flipping the parchment over to see if she’d said anything else, desperate for more information. His mother’s handwriting was a point of feminine pride and the messy scrawl from her underlined the gravity of her message. As he sprinted to the seventh floor, he thought about his mother’s words with each heaving breath. The implication had been clear: if he didn’t get back on task, the Dark Lord, now staying at his home, would make his parents pay for his delay. He tried to ask for the Room of Hidden things as he got to the right spot, but his mind was racing too much to think clearly and his mouth was dry with panic. Finally taking a few deep breaths, he was able to call up the room. As he diagnosed and tinkered with the cabinet, intrusive thoughts popped into his head. His mother bleeding out on the floor of Malfoy Manor’s entryway. His father suffering under the Cruciatus curse. The cold embrace of death at Dumbledore’s hand. But for the first time visions of Hermione popped into his head. Hermione being tortured by Greyback, Hermione’s dead body at the feet of the Dark Lord, Hermione begging for her life before being snuffed out by a jet of green light. His stomach turned at every image that his brain invented and he hurried to work faster, cursing himself for recklessly adding another person to the list of people now in danger because of his actions. 

Draco wasn’t sure how long he’d been there when he heard a knock on the door. Sure he’d imagined it, he turned back to the cabinet. The knock came again a few seconds later, this time louder and more insistent. Draco debated his next course of action quickly, wondering if one of the professors saw him come in. He tried to still himself, reasoning that this room held many things and there was nothing suspicious about a cabinet on its own. He schooled his features as he he walked to the door. 

When he opened it, he was immediately met with a mess of curls. “Granger? How did you know I was here?”

“I followed you up here the other day,” she said as she pushed past him and looked around. “Well, this certainly was not what I expected.” 

“You followed me?” Draco asked hollowly.

“Of course. I knew you were in trouble,” Hermione said as though it was the simplest thing in the world. As she continued to poke around the room and lift things to peek around, Draco felt anger spark. “If we had more time, I’m sure I would’ve worked everything out on my own, but I was worried you’d be doing something drastic and I couldn’t risk it. Are you okay?”

“Is that what this has been then? You spying on me for Potter?” Draco spat at her, irritated that she’d be so casual about deceiving him. “Just a lie?”

“What? Absolutely not!” Hermione stopped and turned to look at him. “Look, I can see something is wrong, just please tell me,” Hermione pleaded, her big brown eyes staring up at him. Draco said nothing and backed away from her, running his hands through his hair. He wanted to make her leave, but knew she wouldn’t. Instead he settled on glaring at her. 

Hermione sighed, staring back at him. While he knew he was radiating anger, she was calm, watching him and waiting. Eventually she spoke. “You’re right about one thing. I did lie to you,” she said quietly, still looking at him. Draco stiffened. “About my parents. I mean, you’d have to be hiding under a rock not to see where things are going. There will be a war, and soon. My parents are muggles, so they are totally defenseless,” Hermione said, speaking quickly, as though she knew if she slowed down she would stop. “And what did you call me on Christmas Eve? Potter’s secret keeper? My proximity to Harry makes them a potential target. So I performed a memory charm on them, erasing myself from their memory. They are in another country now, with no idea they have a daughter,” she finished, her croaking voice betraying her peaceful demeanor. 

“You did what?” Draco asked, his voice barely audible. He slid onto the floor and sat silently for a few minutes, processing. To cut yourself from the life of someone you love - Draco could now see clearly why she wasn’t placed in Ravenclaw. “Is it reversible?”

“I - I don’t know,” Hermione said in a hoarse voice. “But even if it isn’t they will be alive. We all do what we have to for the people we love,” Hermione said, her eyes watering. “Just like I think you’re doing.”

Draco dropped his face into his hands and scrubbed them, trying his hardest not to cry. He wanted to cry for her and her loss, cry for him and his parents, cry for the inevitability of their situation. Only three people had ever seen him truly cry in his adult life: his mother, Theo, and his house elf Tippy. He desperately did not want to add Hermione to that list. He felt a small hand on his shoulder.

“Draco, you’re not alone,” Hermione said softly, rubbing her hand in circles on his shoulder. “Let me help you.” He lifted his head to see her crouching across from him, her expression twisted into concern for him. 

“I was tasked to do something I don’t want to do. But I am doing it for my parents,” Draco gritted out, sure he was condemning her to a painful death with each word. 

“What is it? I assume this is an order from Voldemort.” Draco tried not to wince as she said the name.

“I - I’m meant to kill Dumbledore,” he said before dropping his head into his hands again. 

“You?  _ You’re _ meant to kill one of the greatest wizards alive?” 

Draco scoffed at her disbelief and narrowed his eyes at her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I see. So, what?” Hermione asked, angry now. “If you try and fail, Dumbledore kills you in self-defense. If you succeed, the Dark Lord has eliminated a major player.” Hermione paused, the pieces falling together. “And if you refuse, he kills your parents?” Her eyes searched his, though he wasn’t sure for what. “Oh Draco,” she whispered softly, the pity bleeding into his name in a way that made him want to explode at her. Instead she kept talking. “Something in this room is meant to help you murder our headmaster then?”

“My project - repair the cabinet, allow the Dark Lord’s followers into the castle,” he said, pointing to the vanish cabinet behind them. Hermione stood and circled the cabinet, studying it. She kneeled to look below it before knocking on each of the sides. Draco watched as she opened and shut the door several times before speaking up. Even thought she looked completely bonkers, he couldn’t find it in himself to smile at her strange behavior.

“Granger, if you chew your bottom lip anymore, it’ll come clean off,” Draco said, quirking an eyebrow at her. He had no idea what she could say or do now to make this situation any better. 

“Draco, do you trust me?” Hermione asked, door still open in her hand. 

“Yes,” he said immediately, surprising himself at how readily he answered. 

“Good,” she said, smiling as she slammed the door. “I need to leave. Stay here.”

“No, I’m not letting you go anywhere alone right now,” Draco stood to block her exit. 

“Fine.” She sidestepped him and kept walking with a purpose. “Coming?”

The pair walked silently until they reached a door he’d never been to before. When Hermione knocked, she reached out and squeezed his hand. The mystery door opened nearly immediately to reveal a frowning Professor McGonagall. 

“Miss Granger...and Mister Malfoy? This is unexpected.” Her gaze bounced between them before dropping to and pausing on their interlocked hands. “What do you need?” Professor McGonegall asked Hermione directly, her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Professor, we need to talk to you and Professor Dumbledore immediately,” Hermione said urgently, a desperation in her voice that Draco hadn’t heard before. 

“What is this concerning?” Professor asked stiffly, now looking at Draco. 

“I’m afraid we can’t tell you until we get to the headmaster’s office,” Hermione said, straightening up. Draco watched the two women maintain eye contact until the older witch gave a slight nod. 

“Follow me. This is most unusual Miss Granger.” Draco counted the steps to Dumbledore’s office, wondering if he was counting his way to the gallows, handing himself over to be hung with a rope of his and Hermione’s own making. After a whispered “Acid Pops” and a set of stairs, the headmaster looked at the three of them expectantly from his desk, as though he knew they’d been coming. 

“Hello Minerva, Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy. Lemon drop?” The old man gestured to the bowl of candies on his desk. 

“No, thank you sir,” Hermione said politely with a tight smile. “I’m afraid this is urgent.” Draco opened and closed his fists several times as she talked. Surely her plan couldn’t be to just tell the headmaster he was meant to kill him? That would mean certain death, or at least time in Azkaban while the Dark Lord murdered his parents in retaliation. “Before we can tell you anything, we need to make an Unbreakable Vow. I thought you and I could make it, with Professor MaGonegall overseeing.”

“My word,” McGonagall exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest. 

“I know it sounds extreme, but a binding agreement is of the utmost importance. I’ve read about the vow before and I believe it is the only way to ensure total compliance.”

“And what would that vow be?” Dumbledore asked calmly. 

“I can’t tell you until you agree.” Draco watched Dumbledore purse his lips at Hermione’s terse response. 

“Miss Granger, I can’t commit use both to potential death blindly. You may speak vaguely, if you must.” Hermione looked at Draco, setting her jaw. He tried to signal to her to keep her mouth shut by widening his eyes, but she turned back to the old wizard instead. 

“To protect Draco and do what is in your power to help his parents escape their current situation,” Hermione said quickly. Draco considered how far he’d make it if he ran now. The floo in Dumbledore’s office was open. He just needed to make it a few steps and throw the powder in. He could go to the manor, close the floo, and wait for his mother to return. Perhaps they could flee the country together. Just as he’d convinced himself to move, Dumbledore spoke. 

“I don’t need to make an unbreakable vow to do that, Miss Granger.”

“You may change your mind when you hear the circumstances,” Draco muttered, doubtful that Dumbledore would do anything to help him, let alone his parents. 

“How are we meant to completely trust you then?” Hermione tilted her chin at Dumbledore defiantly. Draco could not recall an instance of Hermione speaking this way to any teacher before. 

“Am I to understand that this is in regards to Draco’s mission to kill me?” Dumbledore asked as he popped a lemon drop into his mouth. The room was eerily silent. Draco felt all the air sucked from his lungs, suddenly dizzy. He could see Hermione’s face reflect her brain working quickly to calculate her next move. “I had thought maybe,” Dumbledore said, a small smirk playing at his lips. The noise of the floo broke the stifling quiet of the room, drawing the attention of everyone in the office. Professor Snape entered the room, brushing the soot off his black billowing robes, and Draco’s breathing hitched. 

“I’ve just killed them,” he whispered, causing Hermione to turn sharply towards him. He could feel the bile in his throat, his knees so weak he was sure they’d give out. 

“What?” Hermione demanded. Draco could only shake his head and look at his feet. He cursed himself for being so idiotic as to trust a Gryffindor, to think anyone could help him out of this. 

“Minerva, can you escort Miss Granger out? We need to have a word with Draco alone.”

“No, I’ll be staying,” Hermione said firmly, looking pointedly at Draco. 

“It’s okay, Hermione,” Draco said, finally finding his voice. “You go. Thank you,” he added with a grim grin, his best attempt to reassure her. But Draco knew he was really saying goodbye to her. She wavered, unsure if she should leave. He nodded again at her and she sighed, walking towards the door. Hermione looked over her shoulder before she disappeared down the stairs and he committed the sight of her to memory, sure it was the last time he’d see her face. Draco memorized the curve of her pink lips and the worried crease between her dark eyebrows. But it was her eyes that he wanted to remember most - the chestnut eyes that he saw in the dark when he closed his own, the warm eyes that could now melt even his frostiest moods. When he could no longer see the back of her head, he gulped and turned to see the two older wizards observing him. 

“The girl then?” Snape finally addressed him as they heard the door at the bottom of the stairs close. He studied Draco intensely, his usually monotone voice taking an incredulous tone. Draco gave him a single sharp nod, not trusting himself to speak. 

“Remind you of someone else you know Severus?” Dumbledore asked the other man with a smile, a knowing look in his eye. Draco wondered what that comment meant, but couldn’t dwell on it. “You have my word that you are safe here. We want nothing but to help you.”

“My mother,” Draco started, looking at Snape. “Severus, please. I can’t not fulfill my mission. He will kill her.”

“Truth be told, we’ve been working to figure out a loophole. Half the job has already been done for you,” Dumbledore said as he pulled up his sleeve to reveal a blackened hand. “Severus, sit. I believe the three of us have much to discuss.”

In the hallway below, Hermione paced back and forth in front of the headmaster’s door. After what felt like hours, the door finally creaked open and the tall wizard stepped through, ducking his head in the doorframe. Draco looked at her with a blank expression, one foot out of the door. 

“So?” Hermione finally asked, irritated that she’d needed to prompt him. 

“We have a plan, but I’m not sure you’ll like it,” Draco said quietly. “Come with me.” Hermione followed him silently, wondering where he’d be taking her and why he was prolonging this torture. He stopped her in front of the Room of Requirement and opened the door. Instead of a crowded room, full of junk, Hermione was pleasantly shocked by the cozy room they entered. Lined with full bookshelves, this room had a comfortable looking couch in front of a roaring fireplace. Draco reached out for her hand and led her to the couch. Once they were sitting facing each other, he took a deep breath. “They knew this whole time. Snape is apparently not as loyal to the Dark Lord as I thought. He made an unbreakable vow to my mother to protect me already, to help me carry out my mission. You see, Dumbledore is already dying,” Draco paused as though to watch her reaction. Hermione’s hands flew unconsciously to her mouth in surprise, but she kept quiet, knowing if she interrupted now it would prolong the full explanation.“They want me to continue to play along to buy time to figure out how to get my mother out. With his vow and Dumbledore’s condition, Snape will kill Dumbledore and I will disappear when it happens, supposedly killed in action. Snape will hide me in the castle and figure out how to protect my mother and I from there.” 

“Will your mom know you’re alive?” Hermione asked first, thinking of her own parents. 

“Snape is trying to figure out how to let her know without putting her in danger. She is not an occlumens,” Draco said. “But I know how deeply he cares for her. I do trust that he’ll help her.”

“And us?” Hermione couldn’t help but ask. 

“We stop. When people come back,” Draco said solemnly. Hermione felt her heart sink, though the logical part of her brain was yelling in agreement with Draco’s plan. “For now,” Draco added, taking her hands. Hermione nodded, questions and ideas swirling in a jumble in her mind. 

“What are you thinking about?” Draco asked her. The question caught her by surprise, given how rarely she heard it. Most of her friends actively avoided asking, knowing it was a dangerous question with Hermione. 

“I’m thinking of altering the Protean Charm to jewelry so we can still communicate safely. I’m also wondering where in the castle they’d hide you that would be truly hidden and if it wouldn’t be smarter to get you out of the country. I’d also like to know what exactly Dumbledore is dying from as another loss will break Harry. And if Snape is a spy, how will he keep your secret?”

“Of course, I should have known better than to ask,” Draco said, a laugh escaping him for the first time since yesterday. He squeezed her hands twice. “Although the charm is a clever idea. I don’t know if I could go long without talking to you now.” 

“Me either,” Hermione said, squeezing him back. 

“Thank you for today. For saving me from my task.” Draco said softly, a weight he’d been carrying for months finally lifting off his shoulders. 

“You saved yourself, Draco,” she whispered, slipping her arms around his neck and relaxing into him. He circled her waist and pulled her closer. They sat like that, just embracing, for a long time. “This is never how I would have pictured ending my year,” Hermione murmured into his neck. 

“That’s right. New Years,” Draco said into her hair before pulling back to look at her. “Let’s hope next year is better than this one.” Hermione gave him a small smile. 

“Would you like to go up to the Astronomy Tower to watch the fireworks? I believe they bought Weasley whiz-bangs, it will be a good show,” Hermione offered, though she knew the emotional exhaustion clear on her face sold out the forced cheer she tried to ask the question with. 

“No, I’d rather stay here with you,” Draco said, pulling her closer again. Hermione delighted in the comfort of his embrace and the warmth of his chest on her cheek. 

“What about tomorrow? And when people get back?” 

“We will deal with tomorrow tomorrow,” Draco said simply, clearly unwilling to let his mind wander. Hermione wondered how he could compartmentalize like this and decided to offer her favorite advice: outlining a plan to combat the stress of the unknown. 

“Well we could start pl-”

“Not tonight, ok? I know your giant brain is working at an absurd speed on how to fix all this, but can we just leave it? Let’s let this be perfect, just for tonight.” Draco sounded stern as he said it, so Hermione sighed and stretched out, leaning into him. Soon she felt sleep pulling on her eyelids, and while she wanted to fight it so she could stay up with Draco to welcome the new year, it overcame her. 

Draco peered down at Hermione’s sleeping form, going over the past few weeks and how different his future looked. When break started, he was sure he or his parents wouldn’t live to see the end of the next term. Instead, Draco was on the precipice of change. As he looked at the witch sleeping peacefully wrapped up in his arms, he knew he was making the right choice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue left now! It will be up shortly after I upload this :) What started as something that was meant to be simple Christmas fluff turned into something I could have written countless chapters about. I am playing with the idea of another fic with a similar setup, but focusing on the fallout (aka the rest of 6th and 7th year). Let me know if that is of interest!


	15. Epilogue: Happy Christmas!

The morning light peeked through the opening in the curtain, causing Hermione to crack a bleary eye open. She shifted, snuggling deeper beneath the heavy comforter keeping the cold out. Even though the war had ended five years ago, she still relished the comfort of a real bed and a good night’s rest. And only living with one wizard in a flat, rather than four in a tent. She could hardly handle the over the top behavior, even after Harry and Ron had befriended Draco and Theo. Hermione still laughed whenever she remembered the chaos in the tent that night when Ron and Harry saw Draco, who was meant to be dead, walk up, with Theo Nott trailing behind him, two black eyes. She, of course, knew he was finally coming after Theo had found him in the castle and he sent her a message via her necklace asking for their location.

“Happy Christmas,” a deep voice whispered in her ear, breaking her from her thoughts and stirring goosebumps all down her arms. She snuggled closer to the warmth next to her, breathing in his spiced cologne. 

“Happy Christmas, Draco,” she whispered back, opening her eyes fully to take him in. He was always handsome, but she especially loved looking at him in the morning. Riddled with sleep, his platinum hair was messy and his features were soften than they ever were outside the flat.

“I have a surprise for you,” the pale wizard said as he pressed kisses along her jawline. 

“Is this the surprise? Because I like this surprise,” Hermione smiled at him. 

“Not exactly,” he chuckled as he grabbed his wand from the bedside table and summoned a small green box wrapped in a large red ribbon. “Open it,” he insisted, pushing the gift into her hand.

Hermione slowly pulled the ribbon and opened the box to find it filled to the brim with the muggle Christmas coal candy. Hermione let out a giggle, thinking of when she gave him the candy for the first time. They considered Christmas their anniversary, even though their first real kiss wasn’t until the 27th. “Are you saying I’ve been naughty this year, Mister Malfoy?” Hermione asked flirtily, picking up one of the packages and smiling at him. 

“Oh yes, Miss Granger. But I think if you keep digging you’ll find another type of coal,” Draco gently pushed the box towards her again. She looked at him quizzically, but kept digging. Her hands hit something soft at the back corner. She grabbed it, pulling out a velvet black box. Hermione looked at the small box for a moment, considering what could be inside. Draco had given her jewelry in the past, but this box looked suspiciously like a ring box.

“Hermione, unless you’ve created a new spell to see through objects, you’ll have to actually open the box,” Draco teased, pressing a kiss into her shoulder.

Slowly, she cracked the box open and peered inside. Staring back at her was a simple golden ring, with a small solitaire diamond at the center. It was clearly a muggle ring, one shockingly close to the one Hermione had seen for years on her own mother’s hand. Draco grabbed the box and took her hand as she sat frozen in her spot, speechless and staring at him.

“Hermione Jean Granger, our relationship started out a bit like coal. But with a lot of pressure, it transformed into something stunning. Without you, my life would have been miserable. I would’ve been on the wrong side of the war at best, or dead after losing my family at worst. I owe you not only my life, but each bright spot of every day. I couldn’t imagine a day without your laugh or you giving me a know-it-all answer over dinner or nights reading in bed together or hearing you hum in the shower. Would you make the luckiest wizard in the world and marry me?”

“Yes!” Hermione pulled him into a hug, which dissolved rapidly into slow, passionate kisses. He slipped the ring onto her left hand and held her in his arms. Hermione breathed him in as they both hummed contently. “The ring is beautiful,” she said softly, looking down at it. 

“Thank you, Mother made some suggestions. I’ll make sure she knows how much you love it. But I think you know where the inspiration came from,” Draco said, nodding towards the photo sitting on her bedside table of her with her parents during their last vacation to Paris. Hermione felt a pang of sadness, thinking of how her parents wouldn’t see her marry a man who loved her like Draco did. They’d never meet the man who saved her life during battle or cooked her favorite meal after a hard day. Draco squeezed her tighter, as if knowing the route her mind was taking. 

“Hot chocolate to celebrate?” Hermione asked after taking a deep breath and choosing to focus on the present, prompting Draco to break out into an even bigger grin. 

“No, don’t get up. Let your fiance get it for you,” Draco threw back the covers and jumped out bed, his pale form in only black boxers disappearing towards the kitchen. Hermione giggled at his exuberance before flopping back onto the bed. She didn’t have much time to think through everything they’d need to do now before Draco returned with two mugs. 

“Theo is going to be even more insufferable about this, isn’t he?” Hermione groaned as she took the mug he offered her, overflowing with whipped cream and accompanied by a candy cane. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Draco laughed. “But I think rightfully so. Best Christmas gift he’ll ever give me.” They smiled at each other before they both took a sip. 

_Fin_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! Had to end our Christmas story with some fluff. Thanks for coming along for the ride of my first finished multi-chaptered story, I hope you liked it. If you enjoyed this, please check out my other Dramione WIP, What Do a Lion and a Wolf Share? It is a slow burn enemies to lovers with a bit of a mystery. It is on my page if you are curious. Wishing you a 2021 that is happy, healthy, and full of good fanfics :)

**Author's Note:**

> This came pouring out my head 2 weeks ago - I will be updating weekly. Enjoy! :)


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